
Class 
Book. 



EREWHON 



** It is not wonderful that such a man as Butler 
should be the author of * Erewhon,' a shrewd and 
biting satire on modern life and thought — the best 
of its kind since * Gulliver's Travels.' . . . To 
lash the age, to ridicule vain pretension, to expose 
hypocrisy, to deride humbug in education, politics, 
and religion, are tasks beyond most men's powers ; 
but occasioaally, very occasionally, a bit of genuine 
satire secures for itself more than a passing nod of 
recognition. * Erewhon,' I think, is such a satire.'* 
—Augustine Birrell, in The Speaker. 



EREWHON 



OR 



OVER THE RANGE 



BY 



SAMUEL BUTLER 

AUTHOR OF 
'life and habit," "the authoress of the ODYSSEY,' 

"Shakespeare's sonnets reconsidered," 
and other works 




NEW YORK 
E P • BUTTON ^ COMPANY 



Y 



•ifis'h. 



PREFACE TO FIRST EDITION 

The Author wishes it to be understood that 
Erewhon is pronounced as a word of three 
syllables, all short — thus, £-rc-wh6n. 



PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION 

Having been enabled by the kindness of the 
public to get through an unusually large edition 
of " Erewhon " in a very short time, I have taken 
the opportunity of a second edition to make some 
necessary corrections, and to add a few passages 
where it struck me that they would be appro- 
priately introduced ; the passages are few, and it 
is my fixed intention never to touch the work 
again. 

I may perhaps be allowed to say a word or two 
here in reference to "The Coming Race," to the 
success of which book " Erewhon " has been very 
generally set down as due. This is a mistake, 
though a perfectly natural one. The fact is that 
" Erewhon " was finished, with the exception of 
the last twenty pages and a sentence or two in- 
serted from time to time here and there through- 
out the book, before the first advertisement of 
"The Coming Race" appeared. A friend having 
called my attention to one of the first of these 
advertisements, and suggesting that it probably 
referred to a work of similar character to my own, 
I took " Erewhon " to a well-known firm of pub- 
lishers on the ist of May 1871, and left it in their 
hands for consideration. I then went abroad, and 



Preface 



on learning that the publishers alluded to declined 
the MS., I let it alone for six or seven months, and, 
being in an out-of-the-way part of Italy, never saw 
a single review of " The Coming Race," nor a copy 
of the work. On my return, I purposely avoided 
looking into it until I had sent back my last revises 
to the printer. Then I had much pleasure in read- 
ing it, but was indeed surprised at the many little 
points of similarity between the two books, in spite 
of their entire independence of one another. 

I regret that reviewers have in some cases been 
inclined to treat the chapters on Machines as an 
attempt to reduce Mr. Darwin's theory to an ab- 
surdity. Nothing could be further from my inten- 
tion, and few things would be more distasteful to 
me than any attempt to laugh at Mr. Darwin ; but 
I must own that I have myself to thank for the 
misconception, for I felt sure that my intention 
would be missed, but preferred not to weaken the 
chapters by explanation, and knew very well that 
Mr. Darwin's theory would take no harm. The 
only question in my mind was how far / could 
afford to be misrepresented as laughing at that for 
which I have the most profound admiration. I am 
surprised, however, that the book at which such 
an example of the specious misuse of analogy would 
seem most naturally levelled should have occurred 
to no reviewer ; neither shall I mention the name 
of the book here, though I should fancy that the 
hint given will suffice. 

I have been held by some whose opinions I re- 

▼lii 



To Second Edition 

spect to have denied men's responsibility for their 
actions. He who does this is an enemy who de- 
serves no quarter. I should have imagined that 
I had been sufficiently explicit, but have made a few 
additions to the chapter on Malcontents, which will, 
I think, serve to render further mistake impossible. 
An anonymous correspondent (by the hand- 
writing presumably a clergyman) tells me that in 
quoting from the Latin grammar I should at any 
rate have done so correctly, and that I should have 
written "agricolas" instead of "agricolae." He 
added something about any boy in the fourth form, 
&c., &c., which I shall not quote, but which made 
me very uncomfortable. It may be said that I must 
have misquoted from design, from ignorance, or by 
a slip of the pen ; but surely in these days it will 
be recognised as harsh to assign limits to the all- 
embracing boundlessness of truth, and it will be 
more reasonably assumed that each of the three 
possible causes of misquotation must have had its 
share in the apparent blunder. The art of writing 
things that shall sound right and yet be wrong has 
made so many reputations, and affords comfort to 
such a large number of readers, that I could not 
venture to neglect it ; the Latin grammar, however, 
is a subject on which some of the younger mem- 
bers of the community feel strongly, so I have now 
written "agricolas." I have also parted with the 
word " infortuniam " (though not without regret), 
but have not dared to meddle with other similar 

inaccuracies. 

ix 



Preface 



and Habit," published in November 1877. / have put 
a bare outline of this theory {which I believe to be quite 
sound) into the mouth of an Erewhonian philosopher in 
Chapter XXVII. of this book. 

In 1865 / rewrote and enlarged "Darwin among 
the Machines " for the Reasoner, a paper published in 
London by Mr. G. J. Holyoake. It appeared July i, 
1865, under the headings " The Mechanical Creation" 
and can be seen in the British Museum. I again 
rewrote and enlarged it, till it assumed the form in 
which it appeared in the first edition of " Erewhon." 

The next part of " Erewhon " that I wrote was the 
" World of the Unborn" a preliminary form of which 
was sent to Mr. Holyoake' s paper ^ but as I cannot find 
it among those copies of the Reasoner that are in the 
British Museum^ I conclude that it was not accepted. 
I have, however^ rather a strong fancy that it appeared 
in seme London paper of the same character as the 
Reasoner, not very long after July 1, 1865, ^*<^ I have 
no copy, 

I also wrote about this time the substance of what 
ultimately became the Musical Banks, and the trial 
of a man for being in a consumption. These four de- 
tached papers were, I believe, all that was written of 
"Erewhon" before 1 870. Between 1865 and 1870 
/ wrote hardly anything, being hopeful of attaining that 
success (xs a painter which it has not been vouchsafed 



xu 



Preface 



me to attain, but in the autumn of iSyo, just as I was 
beginning to get occasionally hung at Royal Academy 
exhibitions f my friend, the late Sir F. N. {then Mr.) 
Broome, suggested to me that I should add somewhat 
to the articles I had already written, and string them 
together into a book. I was rather fired by the idea, 
but as I only worked at the MS. on Sundays it was 
some months before I had completed it. 

I see from my second Preface that I took the book 
to Messrs. Chapman &> Hall May i, 1871, and on 
their rejection of it, under the advice of one who has 
attained the highest rank among living writers, I let 
it sleep, till I took it to Mr. Trubner early in 1872. 
As regards its rejection by Messrs. Chapman & Hall, 
I believe their reader advised them quite wisely. They 
told me he reported that it was a philosophical work, 
little likely to be popular with a large circle of readers. 
I hope that if I had been their reader, and the book 
had been submitted to myself, I should havt advised 
them to the same effect. 

" Erewhon " appeared with the last day or two of 
March 1872. I attribute its unlooked-for success mainly 
to two early favourable reviews — the first in the Pall 
Mall Gazette of April 12, and the second in the 
Spectator of April 20. There was also another cause. 
I was complaining once to a friend that though " Ere- 
whon " had met with such a warm reception, my subse- 



Preface 



quent books had heen all of them practically still-born. 
He said, " You forget one charm that ' Erewhon ' 
had, but which none of your other books can have." 
I asked what? and was answered, " The sound of a 
new voice, and of an unknown voice." 

The first edition of " Erewhon " sold in about three 
weeks; I had not taken moulds, and as the demand 
was strong, it was set up again immediately. I made 
a few unimportant alterations and additions, and added 
a Preface, of which I cannot say that I am partictdarly 
proud, but an inexperienced writer with a head some- 
what turned by unexpected success is not to be trusted 
with a preface. I made a few further very trifling 
alterations before moulds were taken, but since the 
summer of 1872, as new editions were from time to 
time wanted, they have been 'printed from stereos then 
made. 

Having now, I fear, at too great length done what 
I was asked to do, I should like to add a few words 
on my own account. I am still fairly well satisfied 
with those parts of " Erewhon " that were repeatedly 
rewritten, but from those that had only a single writing 
I would gladly cut out some forty or fifty pages if I 
could. 

This, however, may not be, for the copyright will 
probably expire in a little over twelve years. It was 
necessary, therefore^ to revise the book throughout for 



Preface 



literary inekgancies — of which I found many more 
than I had expected — and also to make such substantial 
additions as should secure a new lease of life — at any 
rate for the copyright. If, then, instead of cutting out, 
say fifty pages, I have been compelled to add about 
sixty invita Minerva — the blame j-ests neither iviih my 
publisher nor with me, but with the copyright laws. 
Nevertheless I can assure the reader that, though I have 
found it an irksome task to take up work which I 
thought I had got rid of thirty years ago, and much 
of which I am ashamed of, I have done my best to 
make the new matter savour so much of the better 
portions of the old, that none but the best critics shall 
perceive at 7vhat places the gaps of between thirty and 
forty years occur. 

Lastly, if my readers note a considerable difference 
between the literary technique of " Erewhon " and that 
of *' Erewhon Revisited," I would remind them that, 
as I have just shown, " Erewhon " took something like 
ten years in writing, and even so was written with 
great difficidty, while " Erewhon Revisited " was written 
easily between November 1900 and the end of April 
1 90 1. There is no central idea underlying "Ere- 
whon," whereas the attempt to realise the effect of a 
single supposed great miracle dominates the whole of its 
successor. In " Erewhon " there ivas hardly any story, 
and little attempt to give life and individuality to the 



Preface 



characters; I hope that in *' Erewhon Revisited" both 
these defects have been in great measure avoided. " Ere- 
whon" was not an organic whole, " Erewhon Revisited" 
may fairly claim to be one. Nevertheless, though in 
literary workmanship I do not doubt that this last- 
named book is an improvement on the first, I shall be 
agreeably surprised if I am not told that " Erewhon," 
with all its faults, is the better reading of the two. 

SAMUEL BUTLER. 

August J, 190X. 



CONTENTS 



CHAP. FAGB 

I. Waste lands ....«.•• I 

II. In the wool-shed ....... lo 

III. Up the river , i6 

IV. The saddle 24 

V. The river and the range . . . . .35 

VI. Into Erewhon ....... 47 

VII. First impressions . . . . . . .58 

VIII. In prison 68 

IX. To the metropolis 79 

X. Current opinions 94 

XI. Some Erewhonian trials 109 

XII. Malcontents 119 

XIII. The views of the Erewhonians concerning death . 130 

XIV. Mahaina . 140 

XV. The musical banks ...... 146 

XVI. Arowhena 163 

XVII. Ydgrun and the Ydgrunites .... 174 

XVIII. Birth formulae 183 

XIX. The world of the unborn 190 

XX. What they mean by it 201 

XXI. The colleges of unreason . . , . « zii 
xvii 



Contents 



XXII. The colleges of unreason {conimued) . . . 222 

XXIII. The book of the machines 235 

XXIV. The book of the machines — (continued) . . 244 
XXV. The book of the 7nachi;tes — (concluded) . . 257 

XXVI. The views of an Erewhonian prophet concern- 
ing the rights of anijnals .... 270 
XXVII. The views of a)t Erewhoftian philosopher con- 

cerni?tg the rights of vegetables , , . 287 

XXVIII. Escape 299 

XXIX. Conclusion 314 



avlii 



Erewhon _ 

CHAPTER I 

WASTE LANDS 

If the reader will excuse me, I will say nothing of 
my antecedents, nor of the circumstances which 
led me to leave my native country ; the narrative 
would be tedious to him and painful to myself. 
Suffice it, that when I left home it was with the 
intention of going to some new colony, and either 
finding, or even perhaps purchasing, waste crown 
land suitable for cattle or sheep farming, by which 
means I thought that I could better my fortunes 
more rapidly than in England. 

It will be seen that 1 did not succeed in my 
design, and that however much I may have met with 
that was new and strange, I have been unable to reap 
any pecuniary advantage. 

It is true, I imagine myself to have made a dis- 
covery which, if I can be the first to profit by it, 
will bring me a recompense beyond all money com- 
putation, and secure me a position such as has not 
been attained by more than some fifteen or sixteen 
persons, since the creatioxi of the universe. But to 



Erewhon 



this end I must possess myself of a considerable 
sum of money : neither do I know how to get it, 
except by interesting the public in my story, and 
inducing the charitable to come forward and assist 
me. With this hope I now publish my adventures; but 
I do so with great reluctance, for I fear that my 
story will be doubted unless I tell the whole of it ; 
and yet I dare not do so, lest others with more 
means than mine should get the start of me. I 
prefer the risk of being doubted to that of being 
anticipated, and have therefore concealed my 
destination on leaving England, as also the point 
from which I began my more serious and difficult 
journey. 

My chief consolation lies in the fact that truth 
bears its own impress, and that my story will carry 
conviction by reason of the internal evidences for its 
accuracy. No one who is himself honest will doubt 
my being so. 

I reached my destination in one of the last months 
of 1868, but I dare not mention the season, lest the 
reader should gather in which hemisphere I was. 
The colony was one which had not been opened up 
even to the most adventurous settlers for more than 
eight or nine years, having been previously unin- 
habited, save by a few tribes of savages who fre- 
quented the seaboard. The part known to Europeans 
consisted of a coast-line about eight hundred miles 
in length (affording three or four good harbours), 
and a tract of country extending inland for a space 
varying from two to three hundred miles, until it 



Waste Lands 



reached the offshoots of an exceedingly lofty range 
of mountains, which could be seen from far out 
upon the plains, and were covered with perpetual 
snow. The coast was perfectly well known both 
north and south of the tract to which I have 
alluded, but in neither direction was there a single 
harbour for five hundred miles, and the moun- 
tains, which descended almost into the sea, were 
covered with thick timber, so that none would 
think of settling. 

With this bay of land, however, the case was 
different. The harbours were sufficient ; the country 
was timbered, but not too heavily ; it was admir- 
ably suited for agriculture ; it also contained 
millions on millions of acres of the most beauti- 
fully grassed country in the world, and of the best 
suited for all manner of sheep and cattle. The 
climate was temperate, and very healthy ; there were 
no wild animals, nor were the natives dangerous, 
being few in number and of an intelligent tractable 
disposition. 

It may be readily understood that when once 
Europeans set foot upon this territory they were 
not slow to take advantage of its capabilities. Sheep 
and cattle were introduced, and bred with extreme 
rapidity ; men took up their 50,000 or 100,000 acres 
of country, going inland one behind the other, till 
in a few years there was not an acre between the 
sea and the front ranges which was not taken up, 
and stations either for sheep or cattle were spotted 
about at intervals of some twenty or thirty miles 

3 



Erewhon 

over the whole country. The front ranges stopped 
the tide of squatters for some little time ; it was 
thought that there was too much snow upon them 
for too many months in the year, — that the sheep 
would get lost, the ground being too difficult for 
shepherding, — that the expense of getting wool 
down to the ship's side would eat up the farmer's 
profits, — and that the grass was too rough and 
sour for sheep to thrive upon ; but one after 
another determined to try the experiment, and 
it was wonderful how successfully it turned out. 
Men pushed farther and farther into the moun- 
tains, and found a very considerable tract inside 
the front range, between it and another which 
was loftier still, though even this was not the 
highest, the great snowy one which could be seen 
from out upon the plains. This second range, 
however, seemed to mark the extreme limits of 
pastoral country ; and it was here, at a small and 
newly founded station, that I was received as a cadet, 
and soon regularly employed. I was then just twenty- 
two years old. 

I was delighted with the country and the manner 
of life. It was my daily business to go up to the 
top of a certain high mountain, and down one of its 
spurs on to the flat, in order to make sure that no 
sheep had crossed their boundaries. I was to see the 
sheep, not necessarily close at hand, nor to get them 
in a single mob, but to see enough of them here and 
there to feel easy that nothing had gone wrong ; this 
was no difficult matter, for there were not above eight 



Waste Lands 



hundred of them; and, being all breeding ewes, they 
were pretty quiet. 

There were a good many sheep which I knew, as 
two or three black ewes, and a black lamb or two, 
and several others which had some distinguishing 
mark whereby I could tell them. I would try and 
see all these, and if they were all there, and the mob 
looked large enough, I might rest assured that all 
was well. It is surprising how soon the eye becomes 
accustomed to missing twenty sheep out of two or 
three hundred. I had a telescope and a dog, and 
would take bread and meat and tobacco with me. 
Starting with early dawn, it would be night before I 
could complete my round ; for the mountain over 
which I had to go was very high. In winter it was 
covered with snow, and the sheep needed no watch- 
ing from above. If I were to see sheep dung or 
tracks going down on to the other side of the 
mountain (where there was a valley with a stream — 
a mere cul de sac), I was to follow them, and look 
out for sheep ; but I never saw any, the sheep 
always descending on to their own side, partly from 
habit, and partly because there was abundance of 
good sweet feed, which had been burnt in the early 
spring, just before I came, and was now deliciously 
green and rich, while that on the other side had 
never been burnt, and was rank and coarse. 

It was a monotonous life, but it was very healthy ', 
and one does not much mind anything when one is 
well. The country was the grandest that can be 
imagined. How often have I sat on the mountain 

3 



Erewhon 



side and watched the waving downs, with the two 
white specks of huts in the distance, and the little 
square of garden behind them ; the paddock with a 
patch of bright green oats above the huts, and the 
yards and wool-sheds down on the flat below ; all 
seen as through the wrong end of a telescope, so 
clear and brilliant was the air, or as upon a colossal 
model or map spread out beneath me. Beyond the 
downs was a plain, going down to a river of great 
size, on the farther side of which there were other 
high mountains, with the winter's snow still not 
quite melted ; up the river, which ran winding in 
many streams over a bed some two miles broad, I 
looked upon the second great chain, and could see 
a narrow gorge where the river retired and was lost. 
I knew that there was a range still farther back ; but 
except from one place near the very top of my own 
mountain, no part of it was visible : from this point, 
however, I saw, whenever there were no clouds, a 
single snow-clad peak, many miles away, and I 
should think about as high as any mountain in the 
world. Never shall I forget the utter loneliness of 
the prospect — only the little far-away homestead 
giving sign of human handiwork ; — the vastness of 
mountain and plain, of river and sky ; the marvellous 
atmospheric effects — sometimes black mountains 
against a white sky, and then again, after cold 
weather, white mountains against a black sky — 
sometimes seen through breaks and swirls of cloud — 
and sometimes, which was best of all, I went up my 
mountain in a fog, and then got above the mist ; 



Waste Lands 



going higher and higher, I would look down upon a 
sea of whiteness, through which would be thrust 
innumerable mountain tops that looked like islands. 

I am there now, as I write ; I fancy that I can see 
the downs, the huts, the plain, and the river-bed — 
that torrent pathway of desolation, with its distant 
roar of waters. Oh, wonderful ! wonderful ! so 
lonely and so solemn, with the sad grey clouds 
above, and no sound save a lost lamb bleating upon 
the mountain side, as though its little heart were 
breaking. Then there comes some lean and withered 
old ewe, with deep gruff voice and unlovely aspect, 
trotting back from the seductive pasture ; now she 
examines this gully, and now that, and now she 
stands listening with uplifted head, that she may hear 
the distant wailing and obey it. Aha ! they see, and 
rush towards each other. Alas ! they are both mis- 
taken ; the ewe is not the lamb's ewe, they are 
neither kin nor kind to one another, and part in 
coldness. Each must cry louder, and wander 
farther yet ; may luck be with them both that they 
may find their own at nightfall. But this is mere 
dreaming, and I must proceed. 

I could not help speculating upon what might lie 
farther up the river and behind the second range. I 
had no money, but if I could only find workable 
country, I might stock it with borrowed capital, and 
consider myself a made man. True, the range looked 
so vast, that there seemed little chance of getting a 
sufficient road through it or over it ; but no one had 
yet explored it, and it is wonderful how one finds 



Erewhon 



that one can make a path into all sorts of places 
(and even get a road for pack-horses), which from a 
distance appear inaccessible ; the river was so great 
that it must drain an inner tract — at least I thought 
so ; and though every one said it would be madness 
to attempt taking sheep farther inland, I knew that 
only three years ago the same cry had been raised 
against the country which my master's flock was now 
overrunning. I could not keep these thoughts out 
of my head as I would rest myself upon the moun- 
tain side ; they haunted me as I went my daily 
rounds, and grew upon me from hour to hour, till 
I resolved that after shearing I would remain in 
doubt no longer, but saddle my horse, take as much 
provision with me as I could, and go and see for 
myself. 

But over and above these thoughts came that of 
the great range itself. What was beyond it ? Ah ! 
who could say ? There was no one in the whole 
world who had the smallest idea, save those who were 
themselves on the other side of it — if, indeed, there 
was any one at all. Could I hope to cross it ? This 
would be the highest tritimph that I could wish for ; 
but it was too much to think of yet. I would try the 
nearer range, and see how far I could go. Even if 
I did not find country, might I not find gold, or 
diamonds, or copper, or silver ? I would sometimes 
lie flat down to drink out of a stream, and could see 
little yellow specks among the sand ; were these 
gold ? People said no ; but then people always said 

there was no gold until it was found to be abundant : 

8 



Waste Lands 



there was plenty of slate and granite, which I had 
always understood to accompany gold ; and even 
though it was not found in paying quantities here 
it might be abundant in the main ranges. These 
thoughts filled my head, and I could not banish 
them. 



CHAPTER 1) 

IN THE WOOL-SHED 

At last shearing came ; and with the shearers there 
was an old native, whom they had nicknamed Chow- 
bok — though, I believe, his real name was Kahabuka. 
He was a sort of chief of the natives, could speak a 
little English, and was a great favourite with the 
missionaries. He did not do any regular work with 
the shearers, but pretended to help in the yards, his 
real aim being to get the grog, which is always more 
freely circulated at shearing-time : he did not get 
much, for he was apt to be dangerous when drunk ; 
and very little would make him so : still he did get it 
occasionally, and if one wanted to get anything out 
of him, it was the best bribe to offer him. I resolved 
to question him, and get as much information from 
him as I could. I did so. As long as I kept to 
questions about the nearer ranges, he was easy to get 
on with — he had never been there, but there were 
traditions among his tribe to the effect that there 
was no sheep-country, nothing, in fact, but stunted 
timber and a few river-bed flats. It was very difficult 
to reach ; still there were passes : one of them up our 
own river, though not directly along the river-bed, 
the gorge of which was not practicable ; he had 
never seen any one who had been there : was there 



In the Wool-shed 

not enough on this side ? But when I came to the 

main range, his manner changed at once. He 

became uneasy, and began to prevaricate and shuffle. 

In a very few minutes I could see that of this too 

there existed traditions in his tribe ; but no efforts 

or coaxing could get a word from him about them. 

At last I hinted about grog, and presently he feigned 

consent : I gave it him ; but as soon as he had drunk 

it he began shamming intoxication, and then went 

to sleep, or pretended to do so, letting me kick him 

pretty hard and never budging. 

I was angry, for I had to go without my own 

grog and had got nothing out of him ; so the next 

day I determined that he should tell me before I 

gave him any, or get none at all. 

Accordingly, when night came and the shearers 

had knocked off work and had their supper, I got my 

share of rum in a tin pannikin and made a sign to 

Chowbok to follow me to the wool-shed, which he 

willingly did, slipping out after me, and no one taking 

any notice of either of us. When we got down to the 

wool-shed we lit a tallow candle, and having stuck it 

in an old bottle we sat down upon the wool bales and 

began to smoke. A wool-shed is a roomy place, 

built somewhat on the same plan as a cathedral, 

with aisles on either side full of pens for the sheep, 

a great nave, at the upper end of which the shearers 

work, and a further space for wool sorters and 

packers. It always refreshed me with a semblance 

of antiquity (precious in a new country), though I 

very well knew that the oldest wool-shed in the 

II 



Erewhon 

settlement was not more than seven years old, while 
this was only two. Chowbok pretended to expect his 
grog at once, though we both of us knew very well 
what the other was after, and that we were each play- 
ing against the other, the one for grog the other for 
information. 

We had a hard fight : for more than two hours he 
had tried to put me off with lies but had carried no 
conviction ; during the whole time we had been 
morally wrestling with one another and had neither 
of us apparently gained the least advantage ; at 
length, however, I had become sure that he would 
give in ultimately, and that with a little further 
patience I should get his story out of him. As upon 
a cold day in winter, when one has churned (as I 
had often had to do); and churned in vain, and the 
butter makes no sign of coming, at last one tells by 
the sound that the cream has gone to sleep, and then 
upon a sudden the butter comes, so I had churned at 
Chowbok until I perceived that he had arrived, as it 
were, at the sleepy stage, and that with a con- 
tinuance of steady quiet pressure the day was 
mine. On a sudden, without a word of warning, he 
rolled two bales of wool (his strength was very great) 
into the middle of the floor, and on the top of these 
he placed another crosswise ; he snatched up an empty 
wool-pack, threw it like a mantle over his shoulders, 
jumped upon the uppermost bale, and sat upon it. 
In a moment his whole form was changed. His high 
shoulders dropped ; he set his feet close together, heel 
to heel and toe to toe ; he laid his arms and hands 



In the Wool-shed 

close alongside of his body, the palms following his 
thighs ; he held his head high but quite straight, and 
his eyes stared right in front of him ; but he frowned 
horribly, and assumed an expression of face that was 
positively fiendish. At the best of times Chowbok 
was very ugly, but he now exceeded all conceivable 
limits of the hideous. His mouth extended almost 
from ear to ear, grinning horribly and showing all his 
teeth ; his eyes glared, though they remained quite 
fixed, and his forehead was contracted with a most 
malevolent scowl. 

I am afraid my description will have conveyed 
only the ridiculous side of his appearance ; but the 
ridiculous and the sublimeare near,and the grotesque 
fiendishness of Chowbok's face approached this last, 
if it did not reach it. I tried to be amused, but I felt 
a sort of creeping at the roots of my hair and over 
my whole body, as I looked and wondered what he 
could possibly be intending to signify. He continued 
thus for about a minute, sitting bolt upright, as stiff 
as a stone, and making this fearful face. Then there 
came from his lips a low moaning like the wind, 
rising and falling by infinitely small gradations till it 
became almost a shriek, from which it descended and 
died away ; after that, he jumped down from the bale 
and held up the extended fingers of both his hands 
as one who should say " Ten," though I did not then 
understand him. 

For myself I was open-mouthed with astonish- 
ment. Chowbok rolled the bales rapidly into their 
place, and stood before me shuddering as in great 

13 



Erewhon 



fear ; horror was written upon his face — this time 
quite involuntarily — as though the natural panic of 
one who had committed an awful crime against 
unknown and superhuman agencies. He nodded his 
head and gibbered, and pointed repeatedly to the 
mountains. He would not touch the grog, but, after 
a few seconds he made a run through the wool-shed 
door into the moonlight; nor did he reappear till 
next day at dinner-time, when he turned up, looking 
very sheepish and abject in his civility towards my- 
self. 

Of his meaning I had no conception. How could 
I ? All I could feel sure of was, that he had a mean- 
ing which was true and awful to himself. It was 
enough for me that I believed him to have given me 
the best he had and all he had. This kindled my 
imagination more than if he had told me intelligible 
stories by the hour together. I knew not what the 
great snowy ranges might conceal, but I could no 
longer doubt that it would be something well worth 
discovering. 

I kept aloof from Chowbok for the next few days, 
and showed no desire to question him further ; when 
I spoke to him I called him Kahabuka, which grati- 
fied him greatly : he seemed to have become afraid of 
me, and acted as one who was in my power. Having 
therefore made up my mind that I would begin ex- 
ploring as soon as shearing was over, I thought it 
would be a good thing to take Chowbok with me ; 
so I told him that I meant going to the nearer 
ranges for a few days' prospecting, and that he was 

14 



In the Wool-shed 

to come too. I made him promises of nightly grog, 
and held out the chances of finding gold. I said 
nothing about the main range, for I knew it would 
frighten him. I would get him as far up our own 
river as I could, and trace it if possible to its source. 
I would then either go on by myself, if I felt my 
courage equal to the attempt, or return with Chow- 
bok. So, as soon as ever shearing was over and 
the wool sent off, I asked leave of absence, and ob- 
tained it. Also, I bought an old pack-horse and 
pack-saddle, so that I might take plenty of provisions, 
and blankets, and a small tent. I was to ride and 
find fords over the river ; Chowbok was to follow and 
lead the pack-horse, which would also carry him over 
the fords. My master let me have tea and sugar, 
ship's biscuits, tobacco, and salt mutton, with two or 
three bottles of good brandy ; for, as the wool was 
now sent down, abundance of provisions would come 
up with the empty drays. 

Everything being now ready, all the hands on the 
station turned out to see us off, and we started on our 
journey, not very long after the summer solstice of 
1870. 



IB 



CHAPTER III 

UP THE RIVER 

The first day we had an easy time, following up the 
great flats by the river side, which had already been 
twice burned, so that there was no dense under-/ 
growth to check us, though the ground was often 
rough, and we had to go a good deal upon the river- 
bed. Towards nightfall we had made a matter of 
some five-and-twenty miles, and camped at the point 
where the river entered upon the gorge. 

The weather was delightfully warm, considering 
that the valley in which we were encamped must 
have been at least two thousand feet above the level 
of the sea. The river-bed was here about a mile 
and a half broad and entirely covered with shingle 
over which the river ran in many winding channels, 
looking, when seen from above, like a tangled skein 
of ribbon, and glistening in the sun. We knew that 
it was liable to very sudden and heavy freshets ; but 
even had we not known it, we could have seen it by 
the snags of trees, which must have been carried 
long distances, and by the mass of vegetable and 
mineral debris which was banked against their lower 
side, showing that at times the whole river-bed must 
be covered with a roaring torrent many feet in depth 
and of ungovernable fury At present the river was 

16 



Up the River 

low, there being but five or six streams, too deep 
and rapid for even a strong man to ford on foot, 
but to be crossed safely on horseback. On either 
side of it there were still a few acres of flat, which 
grew wider and wider down the river, till they 
became the large plains on which we looked from 
my master's hut. Behind us rose the lowest spurs 
of the second range, leading abruptly to the range 
itself ; and at a distance of half a mile began the 
gorge, where the river narrowed and became bois- 
terous and terrible. The beauty of the scene cannot 
be conveyed in language. The one side of the valley 
was blue with evening shadow, through which 
loomed forest and precipice, hillside and mountain 
top ; and the other was still brilliant with the sunset 
gold. The wide and wasteful river with its cease- 
less rushing — the beautiful water-birds too, which 
abounded upon the islets and were so tame that we 
could come close up to them — the ineffable purity 
of the air — the solemn peacefulness of the untrodden 
region — could there be a more delightful and ex- 
hilarating combination ? 

We set about making our camp, close to some 
large bush which came down from the mountains 
on to the flat, and tethered out our horses upon 
ground as free as we could find it from anything 
round which they might wind the rope and get 
themselves tied up. We dared not let them run 
loose, lest they might stray down the river home 
again. We then gathered wood and lit the fire. 
We filled a tin pannikin with water and set it against 

17 B 



Erewhon 



the hot ashes to boil. When the water boiled we 
threw in two or three large pinches of tea and let 
them brew. 

We had caught half a dozen young ducks in the 
course of the day — an easy matter, for the old birds 
made such a fuss in attempting to decoy us away 
from them — pretending to be badly hurt as they say 
the plover does — that we could always find them by 
going about in the opposite direction to the old bird 
till we heard the young ones crying : then we ran 
them down, for they could not fly though they were 
nearly full grown. Chowbok plucked them a little 
and singed them a good deaL Then we cut them 
up and boiled them in another pannikin, and this 
completed our preparations. 

When we had done supper it was quite dark. The 

silence and freshness of the night, the occasional 

sharp cry of the wood-hen, the ruddy glow of the fire, 

the subdued rushing of the river, the sombre forest, 

and the immediate foreground of our saddles packs 

and blankets, made a picture worthy of a Salvator 

Rosa or a Nicolas Poussin. I call it to mind and 

delight in it now, but I did not notice it at the time. 

We next to never know when we are well off : but 

this cuts two ways, — for if we did, we should perhaps 

know belter when we are ill off also ; and I have 

sometimes thought that there are as many ignorant 

of the one as of the other. He who wrote, "O 

foriunatos niinium sua si bona norint agricolas," 

might have written quite as truly, " infortiinatos 

nimiinii sua si mala norint " ; and there are few of us 

i8 



Up the River 

who are not protected from the keenest pain by our 
inabiHty to see what it is that we have done, what 
we are suffering, and what we truly are. Let us be 
grateful to the mirror for revealing to us our appear- 
ance only. 

We found as soft a piece of ground as we could — 
though it was all stony — and having collected grass 
and so disposed of ourselves that we had a little 
hollow for our hip-bones, we strapped our blankets 
around us and went to sleep. Waking in the night 
I saw the stars overhead and the moonlight bright 
upon the mountains. The river was ever rushing j 
I heard one of our horses neigh to its companion, 
and was assured that they were still at hand ; I had 
no care of mind or body, save that I had doubtless 
many difficulties to overcome ; there came upon me 
a delicious sense of peace, a fulness of contentment 
which I do not believe can be felt by any but those 
who have spent days consecutively on horseback, or 
at any rate in the open air. 

Next morning we found our last night's tea-leaves 
frozen at the bottom of the pannikins, though it was 
not nearly the beginning of autumn ; we breakfasted 
as we had supped, and were on our way by six 
o'clock. In half an hour we had entered the gorge, 
and turning round a corner we bade farewell to the 
last sight of my master's country. 

The gorge was narrow and precipitous ; the river 

was now only a few yards wide, and roared and 

thundered against rocks of many tons in weight ; the 

sound was deafening, for there was a great volume 

19 



Erewhon 



of water. We were two hours in making less than 
a mile, and that with danger, sometimes in the river 
and sometimes on the rock. There was that damp 
black smell of rocks covered with slimy vegetation, 
as near some huge waterfall where spray is ever 
rising. The air was clammy and cold. I cannot 
conceive how our horses managed to keep their 
footing, especially the one with the pack, and I 
dreaded the having to return almost as much as 
going forward. I suppose this lasted three miles, 
but it was well midday when the gorge got a little 
wider, and a small stream came into it from a 
tributary valley. Farther progress up the main 
river was impossible, for the cliffs descended like 
walls ; so we went up the side stream, Chowbok 
seeming to think that here must be the pass of 
which reports existed among his people. We 
now incurred less of actual danger but more 
fatigue, and it was only after infinite trouble, owing 
to the rocks and tangled vegetation, that we got 
ourselves and our horses upon the saddle from 
which this small stream descended; by that time 
clouds had descended upon us, and it was raining 
heavily. Moreover, it was six o'clock and we were 
tired out, having made perhaps six miles in twelve 
hours. 

On the saddle there was some coarse grass which 
was in full seed, and therefore very nourishing for the 
horses ; also abundance of anise and sow-thistle, of 
which they are extravagantly fond, so we turned them 
loose and prepared to camp. Everything was soaking 



up the River 

wet and we were half-perished with cold ; indeed 
we were very uncomfortable. There was brush- 
wood about, but we could get no fire till we had 
shaved off the wet outside of some dead branches 
and filled our pockets with the dry inside chips. 
Having done this we managed to start a fire, 
nor did we allow it to go out when we had once 
started it ; we pitched the tent and by nine o'clock 
were comparatively warm and dry. Next morning 
it was fine ; we broke camp, and after advancing 
a short distance we found that, by descending 
over ground less difficult than yesterday's, we 
should come again upon the river-bed, which had 
opened out above the gorge ; but it was plain at 
a glance that there was no available sheep country, 
nothing but a few flats covered with scrub on 
either side the river, and mountains which were 
perfectly worthless. But we could see the main 
range. There was no mistake about this. The 
glaciers were tumbling down the mountain sides like 
cataracts, and seemed actually to descend upon the 
river-bed ; there could be no serious difficulty in 
reaching them by following up the river, which was 
wide and open ; but it seemed rather an objectless 
thing to do, for the main range looked hopeless, and 
my curiosity about the nature of the country above 
the gorge was now quite satisfied; there was no 
money in it whatever, unless there should be 
minerals, of which I saw no more signs than lower 
down. 

However, I resolved that I would follow the river 



Erewhon 



up, and not return until I was compelled to do so. I 
would go up every branch as far as I could, and wash 
well for gold. Chowbok liked seeing me do this, but 
it never came to anything, for we did not even 
find the colour. His dislike of the main range 
appeared to have worn off, and he made no objec- 
tions to approaching it. I think he thought there 
was no danger of my trying to cross it, and he was 
not afraid of anything on this side ; besides, we 
might find gold. But the fact was that he had 
made up his mind what to do if he saw me getting 
too near it. 

We passed three weeks in exploring, and never did 
I find time go more quickly. The weather was fine, 
though the nights got very cold. We followed every 
stream but one, and always found it lead us to a 
glacier which was plainly impassable, at any rate 
without a larger party and ropes. One stream re- 
mained, which I should have followed up already, 
had not Chowbok said that he had risen early one 
morning while I was yet asleep, and after going up 
it for three or four miles, had seen that it was im- 
possible to go farther. I had long ago discovered f 
that he was a great liar, so I was bent on going 
up myself : in brief, I did so : so far from 
being impossible, it was quite easy travelling ; 
and after five or six miles I saw a saddle at the 
end of it, which, though covered deep in snow, 
was not glaciered, and which did verily appear to be 
part of the main range itself. No words can express 
the intensity of my delight. My blood was all on 



Up the River 

fire with hope and elation ; but on looking round 
for Chowbok, who was behind me, I saw to my 
surprise and anger that he had turned back, and 
was going down tlie valley as hard as he could. 
He had left me. 



21 



CHAPTER IV 

THE SADDLE 

I COOEYED to him, but he would not hear. I ran 
after him, but he had got too good a start. Then I 
sat down on a stone and thought the matter care- 
fully over. It was plain that Chowbok had 
designedly attempted to keep me from going up 
this valley, yet he had shown no unwillingness to 
follow me anywhere else. What could this mean, 
unless that I was now upon the route by which 
alone the mysteries of the great ranges could be 
revealed ? What then should I do ? Go back at the 
very moment when it had become plain that I was 
on the right scent ? Hardly ; yet to proceed alone 
would be both difficult and dangerous. It would 
be bad enough to return to my master's run, and 
pass through the rocky gorges, with no chance of 
help from another should I get into a difficulty; 
but to advance for any considerable distance with- 
out a companion would be next door to madness. 
Accidents which are slight when there is another at 
hand (as the spraining of an ankle, or the falling 
into some place whence escape would be easy by 
means of an outstretched hand and a bit of rope) 
may be fatal to one who is alone. The more I 
pondered the less I liked it ; and yet, the less could 

24 



The Saddle 



I make up my mind to return when I looked at the 
saddle at the head of the valley, and noted the com- 
parative ease with which its smooth sweep of snow 
might be surmounted : I seemed to see my way 
almost from my present position to the very top. 
After much thought, I resolved to go forward until 
I should come to some place which was really 
dangerous, but then to return. I should thus, I 
hoped, at any rate reach the top of the saddle, and 
satisfy myself as to what might be on the other 
side. 

I had no time to lose, for it was now between ten 
and eleven in the morning. Fortunately I was well 
equipped, for on leaving the camp and the horses at 
the lower end of the valley I had provided myself 
(according to my custom) with everything that I was 
likely to want for four or five days. Chowbok had 
carried half, but had dropped his whole swag — I 
suppose, at the moment of his taking flight — for I 
came upon it when I ran after him. I had, there- 
fore, his provisions as well as my own. Accordingly, 
I took as many biscuits as I thought I could carry, 
and also some tobacco, tea, and a few matches. I 
rolled all these things (together with a flask nearly 
full of brandy, which I had kept in my pocket for 
fear lest Chowbok should get hold of it) inside my 
blankets, and strapped them very tightly, making the 
whole into a long roll of some seven feet in length 
and six inches in diameter. Then I tied the two 
ends together, and put the whole round my neck 

and over one shoulder. This is the easiest way of 

25 



Erewhon 



carrying a heavy swag, for one can rest' one's self by 
shifting the burden from one shoulder to the other. 
I strapped my pannikin and a small axe about my 
waist, and thus equipped began to ascend the valley, 
angry at having been misled by Chowbok, but deter- 
mined not to return till I was compelled to do so. 

I crossed and recrossed the stream several times 
without difficulty, for there were many good fords. 
At one o'clock I was at the foot of the saddle ; for 
four hours I mounted, the last two on the snow, 
where the going was easier ; by five, I was within 
ten minutes of the top, in a state of excitement 
greater, I think, than I had ever known before. Ten 
minutes more, and the cold air from the other side 
came rushing upon me. 

A glance. I was not on the main range. 

Another glance. There was an awful river, muddy 
and horribly angry, roaring over an immense river- 
bed, thousands of feet below me. 

It went round to the westward, and I could see no 
farther up the valley, save that there were enormous 
glaciers which must extend round the source of the 
river, and from which it must spring. 

Another glance, and then I remained motionless. 

There was an easy pass in the mountains directly 
opposite to me, through which I caught a glimpse 
of an immeasurable extent of blue and distant 
plains. 

Easy ? Yes, perfectly easy; grassed nearly to the 

summit, which was, as it were, an open path between 

two glaciers, from which an inconsiderable stream 

26 



The Saddle 



came tumbling down over rough but very possible 
hillsides, till it got down to the level of the great 
river, and formed a flat where there was grass and a 
small bush of stunted timber. 

Almost before I could believe my eyes, a cloud 
had come up from the valley on the other side, and 
the plains were hidden. What wonderful luck was 
mine ! Had I arrived five minutes later, the cloud 
would have been over the pass, and I should not 
have known of its existence. Now that the cloud 
was there, I began to doubt my memory, and to be 
uncertain whether it had been more than a blue line 
of distant vapour that had filled up the opening. I 
could only be certain of this much, namely, that the 
river in the valley below must be the one next to the 
northward of that which flowed past my master's 
station ; of this there could be no doubt. Could I, 
however, imagine that my luck should have led me 
up a wrong river in search of a pass, and yet brought 
me to the spot where I could detect the one weak 
place in the fortifications of a more northern basin ? 
This was too improbable. But even as I doubted 
there came a rent in the cloud opposite, and a 
second time I saw blue lines of heaving downs, 
growing gradually fainter, and retiring into a far 
space of plain. It was substantial ; there had been 
no mistake whatsoever. I had hardly made myself 
perfectly sure of this, ere the rent in the clouds 
joined up again and I could see nothing more. 

What, then, should I do ? The night would be 

upon me shortly, and I was already chilled with 

27 



Erewhon 

standing still after the exertion of climbing. To stay 
where I was would be impossible ; I must either go 
backwards or forwards. I found a rock which gave 
me shelter from the evening wind, and took a good 
pull at the brandy flask, which immediately warmed 
and encouraged me. 

I asked myself, Could I descend upon the river-bed 
beneath me ? It was impossible to say what preci- 
pices might prevent my doing so. If I were on the 
river-bed, dare I cross the river ? I am an excellent 
swimmer, yet, once in that frightful rush of waters, I 
should be hurled whithersoever it willed, absolutely 
powerless. Moreover, there was my swag ; I should 
perish of cold and hunger if I left it, but I should 
certainly be drowned if I attempted to carry it across 
the river. These were serious considerations, but the 
hope of finding an immense tract of available sheep 
country (which I was determined that I would 
monopolise as far as I possibly could) sufficed to 
outweigh them ; and, in a few minutes, I felt resolved 
that, having made so important a discovery as a pass 
into a country which was probably as valuable as 
that on our own side of the ranges, I would follow it 
up and ascertain its value, even though I should pay 
the penalty of failure with life itself. The more I 
thought, the more determined I became either to 
win fame and perhaps fortune, by entering upon 
this unknown world, or give up life in the attempt. 
In fact, I felt that life would be no longer valuable 
if I were to have seen so great a prize and refused 

to grasp at the possible profits therefrom, 

28 



The Saddle 



I had still an hour of good daylight during which I 
might begin my descent on to some suitable camping- 
ground, but there was not a moment to be lost. At 
first I got along rapidly, for I was on the snow, and 
sank into it enough to save me from falling, though 
I went forward straight down the mountain side as 
fast as I could ; but there was less snow on this side 
than on the other, and I had soon done with it, 
getting on to a coomb of dangerous and very stony 
ground, where a slip might have given me a disastrous 
fall. But I was careful with all my speed, and got 
safely to the bottom, where there were patches of 
coarse grass, and an attempt here and there at brush- 
wood : what was below this I could not see. I 
advanced a few hundred yards farther, and found 
that I was on the brink of a frightful precipice, 
which no one in his senses would attempt descending. 
I bethought me, however, to try the creek which 
drained the coomb, and see whether it might not 
have made itself a smoother way. In a few minutes 
I found myself at the upper end of a chasm in the 
rocks, something like Twll Dhu, only on a greatly 
larger scale ; the creek had found its way into it, 
and had worn a deep channel through a material 
which appeared softer than that upon the other side 
of the mountain. I believe it must have been a 
different geological formation, though I regret to say 
that I cannot tell what it was. 

I looked at this rift in great doubt ; then I went 

a little way on either side of it, and found myself 

looking over the edge of horrible precipices on to 

29 



Erewhon 



the river, which roared some four or five thousand 
feet below me. I dared not think of getting down 
at all, unless I committed myself to the rift, of 
which I was hopeful when I reflected that the rock 
was soft, and that the water might have worn its 
channel tolerably evenly through the whole extent. 
The darkness was increasing with every minute, but 
I should have twilight for another half-hour, so I 
went into the chasm (though by no means without 
fear), and resolved to return and camp, and try some 
other path next day, should I come to any serious 
difficulty. In about five minutes I had completely 
lost my head ; the side of the rift became hundreds 
of feet in height, and overhung so that I could not 
see the sky. It was full of rocks, and I had many 
falls and bruises. I was wet through from falling 
into the water, of which there was no great volume, 
but it had such force that I could do nothing against 
it ; once I had to leap down a not inconsiderable 
waterfall into a deep pool below, and my swag was 
so heavy that I was very nearly drowned. I had 
indeed a hair's-breadth escape ; but, as luck would 
have it, Providence was on my side. Shortly after- 
wards I began to fancy that the rift was getting 
wider, and that there was more brushwood. 
Presently I found myself on an open grassy slope, 
and feeling my way a little farther along the stream, 
I came upon a flat place with wood, where I could 
camp comfortably ; which was well, for it was now 
quite dark. 

My first care was for my matches ; were they dry? 
30 



The Saddle 

The outside of my swag had got completely wet ; 
but, on undoing the blankets, I found things warm 
and dry within. How thankful I was ! I lit a fire, 
and was grateful for its warmth and company. I 
made myself some tea and ate two of my biscuits : 
my brandy I did not touch, for I had little left, and 
might want it when my courage failed me. All that 
I did, I did almost mechanically, for I could not 
realise my situation to myself, beyond knowing that 
I was alone, and that return through the chasm 
which I had just descended would be impossible. 
It is a dreadful feeling that of being cut off from all 
one's kind. I was still full of hope, and built golden 
castles for myself as soon as I was warmed with food 
and fire ; but I do not believe that any man could 
long retain his reason in such solitude, unless he had 
the companionship of animals. One begins doubting 
one's own identity. 

I remember deriving comfort even from the sight 
of my blankets, and the sound of my watch ticking — 
things which seemed to link me to other people ; 
but the screaming of the wood-hens frightened 
me, as also a chattering bird which I had never 
heard before, and which seemed to laugh at me ; 
though I soon got used to it, and before long could 
fancy that it was many years since I had first 
heard it. 

I took off my clothes, and wrapped my inside 
blanket about me, till my things were dry. The night 
was very still, and I made a roaring fire ; so I soon 
got warm, and at last could put my clothes on again. 

31 



Erewhon 



Then I strapped my blanket round me, and went to 
sleep as near the fire as I could. 

I dreamed that there was an organ placed in my 
master's wool-shed : the wool-shed faded away, and 
the organ seemed to grow and grow amid a blaze of 
brilliant light, till it became like a golden city upon 
the side of a mountain, with rows upon rows of pipes 
set in cliffs and precipices, one above the other, and 
in mysterious caverns, like that of Fingal, within 
whose depths I could see the burnished pillars gleam- 
ing. In the front there was a flight of lofty terraces, 
at the top of which I could see a man with his head 
buried forward towards a key-board, and his body 
swaying from side to side amid the storm of huge 
arpeggioed harmonies that came crashing overhead 
and round. Then there was one who touched me 
on the shoulder, and said, " Do you not see ? it is 
Handel " ; — but I had hardly apprehended, and was 
trying to scale the terraces, and get near him, when 
I awoke, dazzled with the vividness and distinctness 
of the dream. 

A piece of wood had burned through, and the ends 
had fallen into the ashes with a blaze : this, I sup- 
posed, had both given me my dream and robbed me 
of it. I was bitterly disappointed, and sitting up on 
my elbow, came back to reality and my strange 
surroundings as best I could. 

I was thoroughly aroused — moreover, I felt a fore- 
shadowing as though my attention were arrested by 
something more than the dream, although no sense 
in particular was as yet appealed to. I held my 

32 



The Saddle 



breath and waited, and then I heard — was it fancy ? 
Nay ; I listened again and again, and I did hear a 
faint and extremely distant sound of music, like 
that of an ^olian harp, borne upon the wind 
which was blowing fresh and chill from the opposite 
mountains. 

The roots of my hair thrilled. I listened, but the 
wind had died ; and, fancying that it must have been 
the wind itself — no ; on a sudden I remembered the 
noise which Chowbok had made in the wool-shed. 
Yes ; it was that. 

Thank Heaven, whatever it was, it was over now. 
I reasoned with myself, and recovered my firmness. 
I became convinced that I had only been dreaming 
more vividly than usual. Soon I began even to 
laugh, and think what a fool I was to be frightened 
at nothing, reminding myself that even if I were 
to come to a bad end it would be no such dreadful 
matter after all. I said my prayers, a duty which I 
had too often neglected, and in a little time fell into 
a really refreshing sleep, which lasted till broad day- 
light, and restored me. I rose, and searching among 
the embers of my fire, I found a few live coals and 
soon had a blaze again. I got breakfast, and was 
delighted to have the company of several small birds, 
which hopped about me and perched on my boots 
and hands. I felt comparatively happy, but I can 
assure the reader that I had had a far worse time of 
it than I have told him ; and I strongly recommend 
him to remain in Europe if he can ; or, at any rate, 
in some country which has been explored and 

33 c 



Erewhon 



settled, rather than go into places where others have 
not been before him. Exploring is delightful to 
look forward to and back upon, but it is not comfort- 
able at the time, unless it be of such an easy nature 
as not to deserve the name. 



34 



CHAPTER V 

THE RIVER AND THE RANGE 

My next business was to descend upon the river. I 
had lost sight of the pass which I had seen from the 
saddle, but had made such notes of it that I could 
not fail to find it. I was bruised and stiff, and my 
boots had begun to give, for I had been going on 
rough ground for more than three weeks; but, as the 
day wore on, and I found myself descending without 
serious difficulty, I became easier. In a couple of 
hours I got among pine forests where there was little 
undergrowth, and descended quickly till I reached 
the edge of another precipice, which gave me a great 
deal of trouble, though I eventually managed to 
avoid it. By about three or four o'clock I found 
myself on the river-bed. 

From calculations which I made as to the height 
of the valley on the other side the saddle over which 
1 had come, I concluded that the saddle itself could 
not be less than nine thousand feet high ; and I 
should think that the river-bed, on to which I now 
descended, was three thousand feet above the sea- 
level. The water had a terrific current, with a fall 
of not less than forty to fifty feet per mile. It was 
certainly the river next to the northward of that 
which flowed past my master's run, and would have 

33 



Erewhon 

to go through an impassable gorge (as is commonly 
the case with the rivers of that country) before it 
came upon known parts. It was reckoned to be 
nearly two thousand feet above the sea-level where it 
came out of the gorge on to the plains. 

As soon as I got to the river side I liked it even 
less than I thought I should. It was muddy, being 
near its parent glaciers. The stream was wide, 
rapid, and rough, and I could hear the smaller stones 
knocking against each other under the rage of the 
waters, as upon a seashore. Fording was out of 
the question. I could not swim and carry my 
swag, and I dared not leave my swag behind me. 
My only chance was to make a small raft ; and that 
would be difficult to make, and not at all safe when 
it was made, — not for one man in such a current. 

As it was too late to do much that afternoon, I 
spent the rest of it in going up and down the river 
side, and seeing where I should find the most favour- 
able crossing. Then I camped early, and had a quiet 
comfortable night with no more music, for which I 
was thankful, as it had haunted me all day, although 
I perfectly well knew that it had been nothing but my 
own fancy, brought on by the reminiscence of what I 
had heard from Chowbok and by the over-excitement 
of the preceding evening. 

Next day I began gathering the dry bloom stalks 

of a kind of flag or iris-looking plant, which was 

abundant, and whose leaves, when torn into strips, 

were as strong as the strongest string. I brought 

them to the vvaterside, and fell to making myself a 

J6 



River and Range 

kind of rough platform, which should suffice for 
nyself and my swag if I could only stick to it. The 
italks were ten or twelve feet long, and very strong, 
but light and hollow. I made my raft entirely of 
them, binding bundles of them at right angles to 
each other, neatly and strongly, with strips from the 
leaves of the same plant, and tying other rods across. 
It took me all day till nearly four o'clock to finish 
the raft, but I had still enough daylight for crossing, 
and resolved on doing so at once. 

I had selected a place where the river was broad 
and comparatively still, some seventy or eighty yards 
above a furious rapid. At this spot 1 had built my 
raft. I now launched it, made my swag fast to the 
middle, and got on to it myself, keeping in my hand 
one of the longest blossom stalks, so that I might 
punt myself across as long as the water was shallow 
enough to let me do so. I got on pretty well for 
twenty or thirty yards from the shore, but even in 
this short space I nearly upset my raft by shifting 
too rapidly from one side to the other. The water 
then became much deeper, and I leaned over so far 
in order to get the bloom rod to the bottom that I 
had to stay still, leaning on the rod for a few seconds. 
Then, when I lifted up the rod from the ground, the 
current was too much for me and I found myself 
being carried down the rapid. Everything in a 
second flew past me, and I had no more control over 
the raft ; neither can I remember anything except 
hurry, and noise, and waters which in the end upset 
me. But it all came right, and I found myself near 

37 



Erewhon 

the shore, not more than up to my knees in water and 
pulling my raft to land, fortunately upon the left bank 
of the river, which was the one I wanted. When I 
had landed I found that I was about a mile, or 
perhaps a little less, below the point from which I 
started. My swag was wet upon the outside, and I 
was myself dripping ; but I had gained my point, 
and knew that my difficulties were for a time over. 
I then lit my fire and dried myself ; having done so 
I caught some of the young ducks and sea-gulls, 
which were abundant on and near the river-bed, so 
that I had not only a good meal, of which I was in 
great want, having had an insufficient diet from the 
time that Chowbok left me, but was also well pro- 
vided for the morrow. 

I thought of Chowbok, and felt how useful he had 
been to me, and in how many ways I was the loser 
by his absence, having now to do all sorts of things 
for myself which he had hitherto done for me, and 
could do infinitely better than I could. Moreover, 
I had set my heart upon making him a real convert 
to the Christian religion, which he had already em- 
braced outwardly, though I cannot think that it had 
taken deep root in his impenetrably stupid nature. I 
used to catechise him by our camp fire, and explain 
to him the mysteries of the Trinity and of original 
sin, with which I was myself familiar, having been 
the grandson of an archdeacon by my mother's side, 
to say nothing of the fact that my father was a clergy- 
man of the English Church. I was therefore sufii- 

ciently qualified for the task, and was the more 

38 



River and Range 

inclined to it, over and above my real desire to save 
the unhappy creature from an eternity of torture, 
by recollecting the promise of St. James, that if any 
one converted a sinner (which Chowbok surely was) 
he should hide a multitude of sins. I reflected, 
therefore, that the conversion of Chowbok might in 
some degree compensate for irregularities and short- 
comings in my own previous life, the remembrance 
of which had been more than once unpleasant to me 
during my recent experiences. 

Indeed, on one occasion I had even gone so far as 
to baptize him, as well as I could, having ascertained 
that he had certainly not been both christened and 
baptized, and gathering (from his telling me that he 
had received the name William from the missionary) 
that it was probably the first-mentioned rite to which 
he had been subjected. I thought it great carelessness 
on the part of the missionary to have omitted the 
second, and certainly more important, ceremony 
which I have always understod precedes christening 
both in the case of infants and of adult converts ; 
and when I thought of the risks we were both in- 
curring I determined that there should be no further 
delay. Fortunately it was not yet twelve o'clock, so 
I baptized him at once from one of the pannikins 
(the only vessels I had) reverently, and, I trust, effi- 
ciently. I then set myself to work to instruct him 
in the deeper mysteries of our belief, and to make 
him, not only in name, but in heart a Christian. 

It is true that I might not have succeeded, for 
Chowbok was very hard to teach. Indeed, on the 

39 



Erewhon 



evening of the same day that I baptized him he tried 
for the twentieth time to steal the brandy, which 
made me rather unhappy as to whether I could have 
baptized him rightly. He had a prayer-book — more 
than twenty years old — which had been given him 
by the missionaries, but the only thing in it which 
had taken any living hold upon him was the title of 
Adelaide the Queen Dowager, which he would repeat 
whenever strongly moved or touched, and which did 
really seem to have some deep spiritual significance 
to him, though he could never completely separate 
her individuality from that of Mary Magdalene, 
whose name had also fascinated him, though in a 
less degree. 

He was indeed stony ground, but by digging about 
him I might have at any rate deprived him of all faith 
in the religion of his tribe, which would have been 
half way towards making him a sincere Christian ; 
and now all this was cut off from me, and I could 
neither be of further spiritual assistance to him nor 
he of bodily profit to myself : besides, any company 
Was better than being quite alone. 

I got very melancholy as these reflections crossed 
me, but when I had boiled the ducks and eaten them 
I was much better. I had a little tea left and about 
a pound of tobacco, which should last me for another 
fortnight with moderate smoking. I had also eight 
ship biscuits, and, most precious of all, about six 
ounces of brandy, which I presently reduced to four, 
for the night was cold. 

I rose with early dawn, and in an hour I was on 
40 



River and Range 

my way, feeling strange, not to say weak, from the 
burden of solitude, but full of hope when I con- 
sidered how many dangers I had overcome, and that 
this day should see me at the summit of the dividing 
range. 

After a slow but steady climb of between three and 
four hours, during which I met with no serious hin- 
drance, I found myself upon a tableland, and close to 
a glacier which I recognised as marking the summit 
of the pass. Above it towered a succession of rugged 
precipices and snowy mountain sides. The solitude 
was greater than I could bear ; the mountain upon 
my master's sheep-run was a crowded thoroughfare 
in comparison with this sombre sullen place. The 
air, moreover, was dark and heavy, which made the 
loneliness even more oppressive. There was an inky 
gloom over all that was not covered with snow and 
ice. Grass there was none. 

Each moment I felt increasing upon me that dread- 
ful doubt as to my own identity — as to the continuitjL 
of my past and present existence — which is the first J 
sign of that distraction which comes on those whaj 
have lost themselves in the bush. I had fought 
against this feeling hitherto, and had conquered it ; 
but the intense silence and gloom of this rocky 
wilderness were too much for me, and I felt that 
my power of collecting myself was beginning to be 
impaired. 

I rested for a little while, and then advanced over 
very rough ground, until I reached the lower end of 
the glacier. Then I saw another glacier, descending 

41 



Erewhon 



from the eastern side into a small lake. I passed 
along the western side of the lake, where the ground 
was easier, and when I had got about half way I ex- 
pected that I should see the plains which I had already 
seen from the opposite mountains ; but it was not to 
be so, for the clouds rolled up to the very summit of the 
pass, though they did not overlip it on to the side from 
which I had come. I therefore soon found myself 
enshrouded by a cold thin vapour, which prevented 
my seeing more than a very few yards in front of me. 
Then I came upon a large patch of old snow, in which 
I could distinctly trace the half-melted tracks of goats 
— and in one place, as it seemed to me, there had been 
a dog following them. Had I lighted upon aland of 
shepherds? The ground, where not covered with snow, 
was so poor and stony, and there was so little herbage, 
that I could see no sign of a path or regular sheep- 
track. But I could not help feeling rather uneasy as 
I wondered what sort of a reception I might meet with 
if I were to come suddenly upon inhabitants. I was 
thinking of this, and proceeding cautiously through 
the mist, when I began to fancy that I saw some 
objects darker than the cloud looming in front of 
me. A few steps brought me nearer, and a shudder 
of unutterable horror ran through me when I saw a 
circle of gigantic forms, many times higher than 
myself, upstanding grim and grey through the veil of 
cloud before me. 

I suppose I must have fainted, for I found myself 
some time afterwards sitting upon the ground, sick 
and deadly cold. There were the figures, quite still 

43 . 



River and Range 

and silent, seen vaguely through the thick gloom, but 
in human shape indisputably. 

A sudden thought occurred to me, which would 
have doubtless struck me at once had I not been pre- 
possessed with forebodings at the time that I first 
saw the figures, and had not the cloud concealed them 
from me — I mean that they were not living beings, 
but statues. I determined that I would count fifty 
slowly, and was sure that the objects were not alive 
if during that time I could detect no sign of motion. 

How thankful was I when I came to the end of 
my fifty and there had been no movement ! 

I counted a second time — but again all was still. 

I then advanced timidly forward, and in another 
moment I saw that my surmise was correct. I 
had come upon a sort of Stonehenge of rude and 
barbaric figures, seated as Chowbok had sat when 
I questioned him in the wool-shed, and with the same 
superhumanly malevolent expression upon theirfaces. 
They had been all seated, but two had fallen. They 
were barbarous — neither Egyptian, nor Assyrian, nor 
Japanese — different from any of these, and yet akin 
to all. They were six or seven times larger than life, 
of great antiquity, worn and lichen grown. They 
were ten in number. There was snow upon their 
heads and wherever snow could lodge. Each statue 
had been built of four or five enormous blocks, but 
how these had been raised and put together is known 
to those alone who raised them. Each was terrible 
after a different kind. One was raging furiously, as 
in pain and great despair ; another was lean and 

43 



Erewhon 



cadaverous with famine ; another cruel and idiotic, 
but with the silHest simper that can be conceived — 
this one had fallen, and looked exquisitely ludicrous 
in his fall — the mouths of all were more or less 
open, and as I looked at them from behind, I saw 
that their heads had been hollowed. 

I was sick and shivering with cold. Solitude had 
unmanned me already, and I was utterly unfit to 
have come upon such an assembly of fiends in such 
a dreadful wilderness and without preparation. I 
would have given everything I had in the world to 
have been back at my master's station ; but that was 
not to be thought of : my head was failing, and I felt 
sure that I could never get back alive. 

Then came a gust of howling wind, accompanied 
with a moan from one of the statues above me. I 
clasped my hands in fear. I felt like a rat caught 
in a trap, as though I would have turned and bitten 
at whatever thing was nearest me. The wildness of 
the wind increased, the moans grew shriller, coming 
from several statues, and swelling into a chorus. I 
almost immediately knew what it was, but the sound 
was so unearthly that this was but little consolation. 
The inhuman beings into whose hearts the Evil One 
had put it to conceive these statues, had made their 
heads into a sort of organ-pipe, so that their mouths 
should catch the wind and sound with its blowing. 
It was horrible. However brave a man might be, he 
could never stand such a concert, from such lips, and 
in such a place. I heaped every invective upon 
them that my tongue could utter as I rushed away 

44 



River and Range 

from them into the mist, and even after I had lost 
sight of them, and turning my head round could see 
nothing but the storm-wraiths driving behind me, I 
heard their ghostly chanting, and felt as though one 
of them would rush after me and grip me in his hand 
and throttle me. 

I may say here that, since my return to England, 
I heard a friend playing some chords upon the organ 
which put me very forcibly in mind of the Ere- 
wohnian statues (for Erewhon is the name of the 
country upon which I was now entering). They 
rose most vividly to my recollection the moment my 
friend began. They are as follows, and are by the 
greatest of all musicians* : — 



Prelude : arpeggio. 




* See Handel's compositions for the harpsichord, published 

by Litolf, p. 78. 

45 



Erewhon 



^ 



5 4-f ^>J - 



=z^ 



3:4: 



:^2=g: 



:a: 



3s 



^ 



g — Lc j^^bsl 



^ = 



p|;^- ^3r-r - ^3: 



::& 



-S- -^i;^ 




:§=: 



:g=t:^g: 






^ 



2:* 



I — K 

J 



^^ii^g^^^pi 



46 



CHAPTER VI 

INTO EREWHON 

And now I found myself on a narrow path which 
followed a small watercourse. I was too glad to have 
an easy track for my flight, to lay hold of the full 
significance of its existence. The thought, however, 
soon presented itself to me that I must be in an in- 
habited country, but one which was yet unknown. 
What, then, was to be my fate at the hands of its 
inhabitants ? Should I be taken and offered up as a 
burnt-offering to those hideous guardians of the pass? 
It might be so. I shuddered at the thought, yet the 
horrors of solitude had now fairly possessed me ; and 
so dazed was I, and chilled, and woebegone, that I 
could lay hold of no idea firmly amid the crowd of 
fancies that kept wandering in upon my brain, 

I hurried onward — down, down, down. More 
streams came in ; then there was a bridge, a few pine 
logs thrown over the water ; but they gave me com- 
fort, for savages do not make bridges. Then I had a 
treat such as I can never convey on paper — a moment, 
perhaps, the most striking and unexpected in my 
whole life — the one I think that, with some three or 
four exceptions, I would most gladly have again, were 
I able to recall it. I got below the level of the clouds, 
into a burst of brilliant evening sunshine. I was 

47 



Erewhon 



facing the north-west, and the sun was full upon me. 

Oh, how its light cheered me ! But what I saw ! It 

was such an expanse as was revealed to Moses when 

he stood upon the summit of Mount Sinai, and beheld 

that promised land which it was not to be his to enter. 

The beautiful sunset sky was crimson and gold ; 

blue, silver, and purple ; exquisite and tranquillising ; 

fading away therein were plains, on which I could 

see many a town and city, with buildings that had 

lofty steeples and rounded domes. Nearer beneath 

me lay ridge behind ridge, outline behind outline, 

sunlight behind shadow, and shadow behind sunlight, 

gully and serrated ravine. I saw large pine forests, 

and the glitter of a noble river winding its way upon 

the plains ; also many villages and hamlets, some of 

them quite near at hand ; and it was on these that I 

pondered most. I sank upon the ground at the foot 

of a large tree and thought what I had best do ; 

but I could not collect myself. I was quite tired out ; 

and presently, feeling warmed by the sun, and quieted, 

I fell off into a profound sleep. 

I was awoke by the sound of tinkling bells, and 

looking up, I saw four or five goats feeding near me. 

As soon as I moved, the creatures turned their heads 

towards me with an expression of infinite wonder. 

They did not run away, but stood stock still, and 

looked at me from every side, as I at them. Then 

came the sound of chattering and laughter, and there 

approached two lovely girls, of about seventeen or 

eighteen years old, dressed each in a sort of linen 

gaberdine, with a girdle round the waist. They saw 

48 



Into Erewhon 



me. I sat quite still and looked at them, dazzled 
with their extreme beauty. For a moment they 
looked at me and at each other in great amazement ; 
then they gave a little frightened cry and ran off as 
hard as they could. 

"So that's that," said I to myself, as I watched 
them scampering. I knew that I had better stay 
where I was and meet my fate, whatever it was to 
be, and even if there were a better course, I had no 
strength left to take it. I must come into contact 
with the inhabitants sooner or later, and it might as 
well be sooner. Better not to seem afraid of them, 
as I should do by running away and being caught 
with a hue and cry to-morrow or next day. So I 
remained quite still and waited. In about an hour 
I heard distant voices talking excitedly, and in a 
few minutes I saw the two girls bringing up a party 
of six or seven men, well armed with bows and 
arrows and pikes. There was nothing for it, so I 
remained sitting quite still, even after they had seen 
me, until they came close up. Then we all had a 
good look at one another. 

Both the girls and the men were very dark in 
colour, but not more so than the South Italians or 
Spaniards. The men wore no trousers, but were 
dressed nearly the same as the Arabs whom I have 
seen in Algeria. They were of the most magnificent 
presence, being no less strong and handsome than 
the women were beautiful ; and not only this, but 
their expression was courteous and benign. I think 
they would have killed me at once if I had made 

49 » 



Erewhon 

the slightest show of violence ; but they gave me no 
impression of their being likely to hurt me so long 
as I was quiet. I am not much given to liking any- 
body at first sight, but these people impressed me 
much more favourably than I should have thought 
possible, so that I could not fear them as I scanned 
their faces one after another. They were all powerful 
men. I might have been a match for any one of 
them singly, for I have been told that I have more to 
glory in the flesh than in any other respect, being 
over six feet and proportionately strong ; but any 
two could have soon mastered me, even were I not 
so bereft of energy by my recent adventures. My 
colour seemed to surprise them most, for I have 
light hair, blue eyes, and a fresh complexion. They 
could not understand how these things could be ; 
my clothes also seemed quite beyond them. Their 
eyes kept wandering all over me, and the more they 
looked the less they seemed able to make me out. 

At last I raised myself upon my feet, and leaning 
upon my stick, I spoke whatever came into my head 
to the man who seemed foremost among them. I 
spoke in English, though I was very sure that he 
would not understand. I said that I had no idea 
what country I was in ; that I had stumbled upon it 
almost by accident, after a series of hairbreadth 
escapes ; and that I trusted they would not allow 
any evil to overtake me now that I was completely 
at their mercy. All this I said quietly and firmly, 
with hardly any change of expression. They could 

not understand me, but they looked approvingly to 

60 



Into Erewhon 



one another, and seemed pleased (so I thought) that 
I showed no fear nor acknowledgment of inferiority 
— the fact being that I was exhausted beyond the 
sense of fear. Then one of them pointed to the 
mountain, in the direction of the statues, and made 
a grimace in imitation of one of them. I laughed 
and shuddered expressively, whereon they all burst 
out laughing too, and chattered hard to one another. 
I could make out nothing of what they said, but I 
think they thought it rather a good joke that I had 
come past the statues. Then one among them came 
forward and motioned me to follow, which I did 
without hesitation, for I dared not thwart them ; 
moreover, I liked them well enough, and felt tolerably 
sure that they had no intention of hurting me. 

In about a quarter of an hour we got to a small 
hamlet built on the side of a hill, with a narrow 
street and houses huddled up together. The roofs 
were large and overhanging. Some few windows 
were glazed, but not many. Altogether the village 
was exceedingly like one of those that one comes 
upon in descending the less known passes over the 
Alps on to Lombardy. I will pass over the excite- 
ment which my arrival caused. Suffice it, that 
though there was abundance of curiosity, there 
was no rudeness. I was taken to the principal 
house, which seemed to belong to the people who 
had captured me. There I was hospitably enter- 
tained, and a supper of milk and goat's flesh with a 
kind of oatcake was set before me, of which I ate 
heartily. But all the time I was eating I could not 

51 



Erewhon 



help turning my eyes upon the two beautiful girls 
whom I had first seen, and who seemed to consider 
me as their lawful prize — which indeed I was, for I 
would have gone through fire and water for either 
of them. 

Then came the inevitable surprise at seeing me 
smoke, which I will spare the reader ; but I noticed 
that when they saw me strike a match, there was a 
hubbub of excitement which, it struck me, was not 
altogether unmixed with disapproval : why, I could 
not guess. Then the women retired, and I was left 
alone with the men, who tried to talk to me in every 
conceivable way ; but we could come to no under- 
standing, except that I was quite alone, and had 
come from a long way over the mountains. In the 
course of time they grew tired, and I very sleepy. 
I made signs as though I would sleep on the floor 
in my blankets, but they gave me one of their bunks 
with plenty of dried fern and grass, on to which I 
had no sooner laid myself than I fell fast asleep ; 
nor did I awake till well into the following day, 
when I found myself in the hut with two men 
keeping guard over me and an old woman cooking. 
When I woke the men seemed pleased, and spoke to 
me as though bidding me good morning in a pleasant 
tone. 

I went out of doors to wash in a creek which ran 
a few yards from the house. My hosts were as 
engrossed with me as ever ; they never took their 
eyes off me, following every action that I did, no 
matter how trifling, and each looking towards the 



Into Erewhon 



other for his opinion at every touch and turn. They 
took great interest in my ablutions, for they seemed 
to have doubted whether I was in all respects human 
like themselves. They even laid hold of my arms 
and overhauled them, and expressed approval when 
they saw that they were strong and muscular. They 
now examined my legs, and especially my feet. 
When they desisted they nodded approvingly to 
each other ; and when I had combed and brushed 
my hair, and generally made myself as neat and well 
arranged as circumstances would allow, I could see 
that their respect for me increased greatly, and that 
they were by no means sure that they had treated 
me with sufficient deference — a matter on which I 
am not competent to decide. All I know is that 
they were very good to me, for which I thanked 
them heartily, as it might well have been other- 
wise. 

For my own part, I liked them and admired them, 
for their quiet self-possession and dignified ease 
impressed me pleasurably at once. Neither did 
their manner make me feel as though I were per- 
sonally distasteful to them — only that I was a thing 
utterly new and unlocked for, which they could not 
comprehend. Their type was more that of the most 
robust Italians than any other ; their manners also 
were eminently Italian, in their entire unconscious- 
ness of self. Having travelled a good deal in Italy, 
I was struck with little gestures of the hand and 
shoulders, which constantly reminded me of that 
country. My feeling was that my wisest plan would 

53 



Erewhon 



be to go on as I had begun, and be simply myself 
for better or worse, such as I was, and take my 
chance accordingly. 

I thought of these things while they were waiting 
for me to have done washing, and on my way back. 
Then they gave me breakfast — hot bread and milk, 
and fried flesh of something between mutton and 
venison. Their ways of cooking and eating were 
European, though they had only a skewer for a 
fork, and a sort of butcher's knife to cut with. 
The more I looked at everything in the house, the 
more I was struck with its quasi-European 
character ; and had the walls only been pasted over 
with extracts from the Illustrated London News and 
Punch, I could have almost fancied myself in a 
shepherd's hut upon my master's sheep-run. And 
yet everything was slightly different. It was much 
the same with the birds and flowers on the other 
side, as compared with the English ones. On my 
arrival I had been pleased at noticing that nearly all 
the plants and birds were very like common English 
ones : thus, there was a robin, and a lark, and a 
wren, and daisies, and dandelions ; not quite the 
same as the English, but still very like them — 
quite like enough to be called by the same name ; 
so now, here, the ways of these two men, and the 
things they had in the house, were all very nearly 
the same as in Europe. It was not at all like going 
to China or Japan, where everything that one sees is 
strange. I was, indeed, at once struck with the 
primitive character of their appliances, for they 

54 



Into Erewhon 



seemed to be some five or six hundred years behind 
Europe in their inventions ; but this is the case in 
many an Italian village. 

All the time that I was eating my breakfast I kept 
speculating as to what family of mankind they could 
belong to ; and shortly there came an idea into my 
liead, which brought the blood into my cheeks with 
excitement as I thought of it. Was it possible that 
they might be the lost ten tribes of Israel, of whom 
I had heard both my grandfather and my father 
make mention as existing in an unknown country, 
and awaiting a final return to Palestine ? Was it 
possible that / might have been designed by 
Providence as the instrument of their conversion ? 
Oh, what a thought was this 1 I laid down my 
skewer and gave them a hasty survey. There was 
nothing of a Jewish type about them : their noses 
were distinctly Grecian, and their lips, though full, 
were not Jewish. 

How could I settle this question ? I knew neither 
Greek nor Hebrew, and even if I should get to 
understand the language here spoken, I should be 
unable to detect the roots of either of these tongues. 
I had not been long enough among them to ascer- 
tain their habits, but they did not give me the 
impression of being a religious people. This too 
was natural : the ten tribes had been always 
lamentably irreligious. But could I not make them 
change ? To restore the lost ten tribes of Israel to 
a knowledge of the only truth : here would be 
indeed an immortal crown of glory ! My heart beat 

55 



Erewhon 



fast and furious as I entertained the thought. What 
a position would it not ensure me in the next world; 
or perhaps even in this 1 What folly it would be to 
throw such a chance away ! I should rank next to 
the Apostles, if not as high as they — certainly above 
the minor prophets, and possibly above any Old 
Testament writer except Moses and Isaiah. For 
such a future as this I would sacrifice all that I have 
without a moment's hesitation, could I be reasonably 
assured of it. I had always cordially approved of 
missionary efforts, and had at times contributed my 
mite towards their support and extension ; but I 
had never hitherto felt drawn towards becoming a 
missionary myself ; and indeed had always admired, 
and envied, and respected them, more than I had 
exactly liked them. But if these people were the 
lost ten tribes of Israel, the case would be widely 
different : the opening was too excellent to be lost, 
and I resolved that should I see indications which 
appeared to confirm my impression that I had 
indeed come upon the missing tribes, I would 
certainly convert them. 

I may here mention that this discovery is the one 
to which I alluded in the opening pages of my story. 
Time strengthened the impression made upon me at 
first ; and, though I remained in doubt for several 
months, I feel now no longer uncertain. 

When I had done eating, my hosts approached, 

and pointed down the valley leading to their own 

country, as though wanting to show that I must go 

with them ; at the same time they laid hold of my 

56 



Into Erewhon 



arms, and made as though they would take me, but 
used no violence. I laughed, and motioned my 
hand across my throat, pointing down the valley as 
though I was afraid lest I should be killed when I 
got there. But they divined me at once, and shook 
their heads with much decision, to show that I was 
in no danger. Their manner quite reassured me ; 
and in half an hour or so I had packed up my swag, 
and was eager for the forward journey, feeling 
wonderfully strengthened and refreshed by good 
food and sleep, while my hope and curiosity were 
aroused to their very utmost by the extraordinary 
position in which I found myself. 

But already my excitement had begun to cool ; 
and I reflected that these people might not be the 
ten tribes after all ; in which case I could not but 
regret that my hopes of making money, which had 
led me into so much trouble and danger, were 
almost annihilated by the fact that the country was 
full to overflowing, with a people who had probably 
already developed its more available resources. 
Moreover, how was I to get back ? For there was 
something about my hosts which told me that they 
had got me, and meant to keep me, in spite of all 
their goodness. 



C7 



CHAPTER VII 

FIRST IMPRESSIONS 

We followed an Alpine path for some four miles, 
now hundreds of feet above a brawling stream 
which descended from the glaciers, and now nearly 
alongside it. The morning was cold and somewhat 
foggy, for the autumn had made great strides latterly. 
Sometimes we went through forests of pine, or rather 
yew trees, though they looked like pine ; and I re- 
member that now and again we passed a little way- 
side shrine, wherein there would be a statue of great 
beauty, representing some figure, male or female, in 
the very heyday of youth, strength, and beauty, or of 
the most dignified maturity and old age. My 
hosts always bowed their heads as they passed one of 
these shrines, and it shocked me to see statues that 
had no apparent object, beyond the chronicling of 
some unusual individual excellence or beauty, receive 
so serious a homage. However, I showed no sign of 
wonder or disapproval ; for I remembered that to be 
all things to all men was one of the injunctions of 
the Gentile Apostle, which for the present I should 
do well to heed. Shortly after passing one of these 
chapels we came suddenly upon a village which started 
up out of the mist ; and I was alarmed lest I should 
be made an object of curiosity or dislike. But it was 

58 



First Impressions 



not so. My guides spoke to many in passing, and 
those spoken to showed much amazement. My 
guides, however, were well known, and the natural 
politeness of the people prevented them from putting 
me to any inconvenience ; but they could not help 
eyeing me, nor I them. I may as well say at once 
what my after-experience taught me — namely, that 
with all their faults and extraordinary obliquity of 
mental vision upon many subjects, they are the very 
best-bred people that I ever fell in with. 

The village was just like the one we had left, only 
rather larger. The streets were narrow and un- 
paved, but very fairly clean. The vine grew outside 
many of the houses ; and there were some with sign- 
boards, on which was painted a bottle and a glass, 
that made me feel much at home. Even on this 
ledge of human society there was a stunted growth 
of shoplets, which had taken root and vegetated 
somehow, though as in an air mercantile of the 
bleakest. It was here as hitherto : all things were 
generically the same as in Europe, the differences 
being of species only ; and I was amused at seeing 
in a window some bottles with barley-sugar and 
sweetmeats for children, as at home ; but the barley- 
sugar was in plates, not in twisted sticks, and 
was coloured blue. Glass was plentiful in the better 
houses. 

Lastly, I should say that the people were of a 
physical beauty which was simply amazing. I never 
saw anything in the least comparable to them. The 
women were vigorous, and had a most majestic gait, 

59 



Erewhon 



their heads being set upon their shoulders with a 
grace beyond all power of expression. Each feature 
was finished, eyelids, eyelashes, and ears being 
almost invariably perfect. Their colour was equal 
to that of the finest Italian paintings ; being of the 
clearest olive, and yet ruddy with a glow of perfect 
health. Their expression was divine ; and as they 
glanced at me timidly but with parted lips in great 
bewilderment, I forgot all thoughts of their conver- 
sion in feelings that were far more earthly. I was 
dazzled as I saw one after the other, of whom !I 
could only feel that each was the loveliest I had 
ever seen. Even in middle age they were still 
comely, and the old grey-haired women at their 
cottage doors had a dignity, not to say majesty, of 
their own. 

The men were as handsome as the women beauti- 
ful. I have always delighted in and reverenced 
beauty ; but I felt simply abashed in the presence of 
such a splendid type — a compound of all that is best 
in Egyptian, Greek and Italian. The children were 
infinite in number, and exceedingly merry ; I need 
hardly say that they came in for their full share of 
the prevailing beauty. I expressed by signs my 
admiration and pleasure to my guides, and they 
were greatly pleased. I should add that all seemed 
to take a pride in their personal appearance, and 
that even the poorest (and none seemed rich) were 
well kempt and tidy. I could fill many pages with 
a description of their dress and the ornaments 

which they wore, and a hundred details which 

60 



First Impressions 



struck me with all the force of novelty ; but I must 
not stay to do so. 

When we had got past the village the fog rose, and 
revealed magnificent views of the snowy mountains 
and their nearer abutments, while in front I could 
now and again catch glimpses of the great plains 
which I had surveyed on the preceding evening. The 
country was highly cultivated, every ledge being 
planted with chestnuts, walnuts, and apple-trees from 
which the apples were now gathering. Goats were 
abundant ; also a kind of small black cattle, in the 
marshes near the river, which was now fast widening, 
and running between larger flats from which the hills 
receded more and more. I saw a few sheep with 
rounded noses and enormous tails. Dogs were there 
in plenty, and very English ; but I saw no cats, nor 
indeed are these creatures known, their place being 
supplied by a sort of small terrier. 

In about four hours of walking from the time we 
started, and after passing two or three more villages, 
we came upon a considerable town, and my guides 
made many attempts to make me understand some- 
thing, but I gathered no inkling of their meaning, 
except that I need be under no apprehension of 
danger. I will spare the reader any description of 
the town, and would only bid him think of 
Domodossola or Faido. Suffice it that I found 
myself taken before the chief magistrate, and by his 
orders was placed in an apartment with two other 
people, who were the first I had seen looking any- 
thing but well and handsome. In fact, one of them 

6i 



Erewhon 



was plainly very much out of health, and coughed 
violently from time to time in spite ot manifest 
efforts to suppress it. The other looked pale and ill 
but he was marvellously self-contained, and it was 
impossible to say what was the matter with him. 
Both of them appeared astonished at seeing one who 
was evidently a stranger, but they were too ill to 
come up to me, and form conclusions concerning 
me. These two were first called out ; and in about 
a quarter of an hour I was made to follow them, 
which I did in some fear, and with much curiosity. 
The chief magistrate was a venerable-looking man, 
with white hair and beard and a face of great 
sagacity. He looked me all over for about five 
minutes, letting his eyes wander from the crown of 
my head to the soles of my feet, up and down, and 
down and up ; neither did his mind seem in the 
least clearer when he had done looking than when 
he began. He at length asked me a single short 
question, which I supposed meant "Who are 
you ? " I answered in English quite composedly as 
though he would understand me, and endeavoured 
to be my very most natural self as well as I could. 
He appeared more and more puzzled, and then 
retired, returning with two others much like him- 
self. Then they took me into an inner room, and 
the two fresh arrivals stripped me, while the chief 
looked on. They felt my pulse, they looked at my 
tongue, they listened at my chest, they felt all my 
muscles ; and at the end of each operation they 

looked at the chief and nodded, and said something 

62 



First Impressions 

in a tone quite pleasant, as though I were all right. 
They even pulled down my eyelids, and looked, I 
suppose, to see if they were bloodshot ; but it was 
not so. At length they gave up ; and I think that 
all were satisfied of my being in the most perfect 
health, and very robust to boot. At last the old 
magistrate made me a speech of about five minutes 
long, which the other two appeared to think greatly 
to the point, but from which I gathered nothing. 
As soon as it was ended, they proceeded to over- 
haul my swag and the contents of my pockets. 
This gave me little uneasiness, for I had no money 
with me, nor anything which they were at all likely 
to want, or which I cared about losing. At least I 
fancied so, but I soon found my mistake. 

They got on comfortably at first, though they 
were much puzzled with my tobacco-pipe and 
insisted on seeing me use it. When I had shown 
them what I did with it, they were astonished but 
not displeased, and seemed to like the smell. But 
by and by they came to my watch, which I had 
hidden away in the inmost pocket that I had, and 
had forgotten when they began their search. They 
seemed concerned and uneasy as soon as they got 
hold of it. They then made me open it and show 
the works ; and when I had done so they gave signs 
of very grave displeasure, which disturbed me all 
the more because I could not conceive wherein it 
could have offended them. 

I remember that when they first found it I had 
thought of Paley, and how he tells us that a savage 

63 



Erewhon 



on seeing a watch would at once conclude that it 
was designed. True, these people were not savages, 
but I none the less felt sure that this was the 
conclusion they would arrive at ; and I was 
thinking what a wonderfully wise man Archbishop 
Paley must have been, when I was aroused by a 
look of horror and dismay upon the face of the 
magistrate, a look which conveyed to me the 
impression that he regarded my watch not as having 
been designed, but rather as the designer of himself 
and of the universe ; or as at any rate one of the 
great first causes of all things. 

Then it struck me that this view was quite as 
likely to be taken as the other by a people who had 
no experience of European civilisation, and I was 
a little piqued with Paley for having led me so 
much astray ; but I soon discovered that I had 
misinterpreted the expression on the magistrate's 
face, and that it was one not of fear, but hatred. He 
spoke to me solemnly and sternly for two or three 
minutes. Then, reflecting that this was of no use, 
he caused me to be conducted through several pas- 
sages into a large room, which I afterwards found 
was the museum of the town, and wherein I beheld 
a sight which astonished me more than anything 
that I had yet seen. 

It was filled with cases containing all manper of 
curiosities — such as skeletons, stuffed birds and 
animals, carvings in stone (whereof I saw several 
that were like those on the saddle, only smaller), but 
the greater part of the room was occupied by broken 

64 



First Impressions 

machinery of all descriptions. The larger speci- 
mens had a case to themselves, and tickets with 
writing on them in a character which I could not 
understand. There were fragments of steam 
engines, all broken and rusted ; among them I 
saw a cylinder and piston, a broken fly-wheel, and 
part of a crank, which was laid on the ground by 
their side. Again, there was a very old carriage 
whose wheels in spite of rust and decay, I could 
see, had been designed originally for iron rails. 
Indeed, there were fragments of a great many of 
our own most advanced inventions ; but they 
seemed all to be several hundred years old, and to 
be placed where they were, not for instruction, but 
curiosity. As I said before, all were marred and 
broken. 

We passed many cases, and at last came to one 
in which there were several clocks and two or 
three old watches. Here the magistrate stopped, 
and opening the case began comparing my watch 
with the others. The design was different, but the 
thing was clearly the same. On this he turned to me 
and made me a speech in a severe and injured tone 
of voice, pointing repeatedly to the watches in the 
case, and to my own ; neither did he seem in the 
least appeased until I made signs to him that he 
had better take my watch and put it with the 
others. This had some effect in calming him. I 
said in English (trusting to tone and manner to 
convey my meaning) that I was exceedingly sorry 

if I had been found to have anything contraband 

65 B 



Erewhon 



in my possession ; that I had had no intention of 
evading the ordinary tolls, and that I would gladly 
forfeit the watch if my doing so would atone for 
an unintentional violation of the law. He began 
presently to relent, and spoke to me in a kinder 
manner. I think he saw that I had offended 
without knowledge ; but I believe the chief thing 
that brought him round was my not seeming to be 
afraid of him, although I was quite respectful ; 
this, and my having light hair and complexion, 
on which he had remarked previously by signs, as 
every one else had done. 

I afterwards found that it was reckoned a very 
great merit to have fair hair, this being a thing of 
the rarest possible occurrence, and greatly admired 
and envied in all who were possessed of it. However 
that might be, my watch was taken from me ; but 
our peace was made, and I was conducted back to 
the room where I had been examined. The magis- 
trate then made me another speech, whereon I was 
taken to a building hard by, which I soon dis- 
covered to be the common prison of the town, but 
in which an apartment was assigned me separate 
from the other prisoners. The room contained a 
bed, table, and chairs, also a fireplace and a 
washing-stand. There was another door, which 
opened on to a balcony, with a flight of steps 
descending into a walled garden of some size. The 
man who conducted me into this room made signs 
to me that I might go down and walk in the garden 

whenever I pleased, and intimated that I should 

66 



First Impressions 

shortly have something brought me to eat. I was 
allowed to retain my blankets, and the few things 
which I had wrapped inside them, but it was plain 
that I was to consider myself a prisoner — for how 
long a period I could not by any means determine. 
He then left me alone. 



m 



CHAPTER VIII 

IN PRISON 

And now for the first time my courage completely 
failed me. It is enough to say that I was penni- 
less, and a prisoner in a foreign country, where I 
had no friend, nor any knowledge of the customs 
or language of the people. I was at the mercy of 
men with whom I had little in common. And yet, 
engrossed as I was with my extremely difficult and 
doubtful position, I could not help feeling deeply 
interested in the people among whom I had fallen. 
What was the meaning of that room full of old 
machinery which I had just seen, and of the dis- 
pleasure with which the magistrate had regarded 
my watch ? The people had very little machinery 
now. I had been struck with this over and over 
again, though I had not been more than four- 
and-twenty hours in the country. They were 
about as far advanced as Europeans of the twelfth 
or thirteenth century ; certainly not more so. And 
yet they must have had at one time the fullest 
knowledge of our own most recent inventions. 
How could it have happened that having been 
once so far in advance they were now as much 
behind us ? It was evident that it was not from 

ignorance. They knew my watch as a watch when 

68 



In Prison 

they saw it ; and the care with which the broken 
machines were preserved and ticketed, proved that 
they had not lost the recollection of their former 
civilisation. The more I thought, the less I could 
understand it; but at last I concluded that they 
must have worked out their mines of coal and iron, 
till either none were left, or so few, that the use of 
these metals was restricted to the very highest 
nobility. This was the only solution I could think 
of ; and, though I afterwards found how entirely 
mistaken it was, I felt quite sure then that it must 
be the right one. 

I had hardly arrived at this opinion for above 
four or five minutes, when the door opened, and a 
young woman made her appearance with a tray, 
and a very appetising smell of dinner. I gazed 
upon her with admiration as she laid a cloth and 
set a savoury-looking dish upon the table. As I 
beheld her I felt as though my position was already 
much ameliorated, for the very sight of her carried 
great comfort. She was not more than twenty, rather 
above the middle height, active and strong, but yet 
most delicately featured ; her lips were full and 
sweet ; her eyes were of a deep hazel, and fringed 
with long and springing eyelashes ; her hair was 
neatly braided from off her forehead ; her com- 
plexion was simply exquisite ; her figure as robust 
as was consistent with the most perfect female 
beauty, yet not more so ; her hands and feet might 
have served as models to a sculptor. Having set 

the stew upon the table, she retired with a glance 

69 



Erewhon 



of pity, whereon (remembering pity's kinsman) I 

decided that she should pity me a Httle more. She 

returned with a bottle and a glass, and found me 

sitting on the bed with my hands over my face, 

looking the very picture of abject misery, and, like 

all pictures, rather untruthful. As I watched her, 

through my fingers, out of the room again, I felt 

sure that she was exceedingly sorry for me. Her 

back being turned, I set to work and ate my dinner, 

which was excellent. 

She returned in about an hour to take away ; and 

there came with her a man who had a great bunch 

of keys at his waist, and whose manner convinced 

me that he was the jailor. I afterwards found that 

he was father to the beautiful creature who had 

brought me my dinner. I am not a much greater 

hypocrite than other people, and do what I would, 

I could not look so very miserable. I had already 

recovered from my dejection, and felt in a most 

genial humour both with my jailor and his daughter. 

I thanked them for their attention towards me ; 

and, though they could not understand, they looked 

at one another and laughed and chattered till the 

old man said something or other which I suppose 

was a joke ; for the girl laughed merrily and ran 

away, leaving her father to take away the dinner 

things. Then I had another visitor, who was not 

so prepossessing, and who seemed to have a great 

idea of himself and a small one of me. He brought 

a book with him, and pens and paper — all very 

English ; and yet, neither paper, nor printing, nor 

70 



In Prison 



binding, nor pen, nor ink, were quite the same as 
ours. 

He gave me to understand that he was to teach 
me the language and that we were to begin at once. 
This delighted me, both because I should be more 
comfortable when I could understand and make 
myself understood, and because I supposed that 
the authorities would hardly teach me the language 
if they intended any cruel usage towards me after- 
wards. We began at once, and I learnt the names 
of everything in the room, and also the numerals 
and personal pronouns. I found to my sorrow 
that the resemblance to European things, which I 
had so frequently observed hitherto, did not hold 
good in the matter of language ; for I could detect 
no analogy whatever between this and any tongue 
of which I have the slightest knowledge, — a thing 
which made me think it possible that I might be 
learning Hebrew. 

I must detail no longer ; from this time my days 
were spent with a monotony which would have 
been tedious but for the society of Yram, the jailor's 
daughter, who had taken a great fancy for me and 
treated me with the utmost kindness. The man 
came every day to teach me the language, but my 
real dictionary and grammar were Yram ; and I 
consulted them to such purpose that I made the 
most extraordinary progress, being able at the end 
of a month to understand a great deal of the con- 
versation which I overheard between Yram and her 
father. My teacher professed himself well satisfied, 

71 



Erewhon 



and said he should make a favourable report of me 
to the authorities. I then questioned him as to 
what would probably be done with me. He told 
me that my arrival had caused great excitement 
throughout the country, and that I was to be 
detained a close prisoner until the receipt of advices 
from the Government. My having had a watch, he 
said, was the only damaging feature in the case. 
And then, in answer to my asking why this should 
be so, he gave me a long story of which with my 
imperfect knowledge of the language I could make 
nothing whatever, except that it was a very heinous 
offence, almost as bad (at least, so I thought I 
understood him) as having typhus fever. But he 
S£>id he thought my light hair would save me. 

I was allowed to walk in the garden ; there was 
a high wall so that I managed to play a sort of 
hand fives, which prevented my feeling the bad 
effects of my confinement, though it was stupid 
work playing alone. In the course of time people 
from the town and neighbourhood began to pester 
the jailor to be allowed to see me, and on receiving 
handsome fees he let them do so. The people were 
good to me ; almost too good, for they were in- 
clined to make a Hon of me, which I hated — at 
least the women were ; only they had to beware of 
Yram, who was a young lady of a jealous tempera- 
ment, and kept a sharp eye both on me and on my 
lady visitors. However, I felt so kindly towards 
her, and was so entirely dependent upon her for 
almost all that made my life a blessing and a 

72 



In Prison 



comfort to me, that I took good care not to vex 
her, and we remained excellent friends. The men 
were far less inquisitive, and would not, I believe, 
have come near me of their own accord ; but the 
women made them come as escorts. I was de- 
lighted with their handsome mien, and pleasant 
genial manners. 

My food was plain, but always varied and whole- 
some, and the good red wine was admirable. I had 
found a sort of wort in the garden, which I sweated 
in heaps and then dried, obtaining thus a substitute 
for tobacco ; so that what with Yram, the language, 
visitors, fives in the garden, smoking, and bed, my 
time slipped by more rapidly and pleasantly than 
might have been expected. I also made myself a 
small flute ; and being a tolerable player, amused 
myself at times with playing snatches from operas, 
and airs such as "O where and oh where," and 
" Home, sweet home." This was of great advantage 
to me, for the people of the country were ignorant 
of the diatonic scale and could hardly believe their 
ears on hearing some of our most common 
melodies. Often, too, they would make me sing ; 
and I could at any time make Yram's eyes swim 
with tears by singing "Wilkins and his Dinah," 
"Billy Taylor," "The Ratcatcher's Daughter," or 
as much of them as I could lemember. 

I had one or two discussions with them because 
I never would sing on Sunday (of which I kept 
count in my pocket-book), except chants and hymn 
tunes ; of these I regret to say that I had forgotten 

73 



Erewhon 



r — 

V 



the words, so that I could only sing the tune. 
They appeared to have little or no religious feeling, 
and to have never so much as heard of the divine 
institution of the Sabbath, so they ascribed my 
observance of it to a fit of sulkiness, which they re- 
marked as coming over me upon every seventh day. 
But they were very tolerant, and one of them said 
to me quite kindly that she knew how impossible 
it was to help being sulky at times, only she thought 
■^ I ought to see some one if it became more serious 
— a piece of advice which I then failed to under- 
stand, though I pretended to take it quite as a 
matter of course. 

Once only did Yram treat me in a way that was 
unkind and unreasonable, — at least so I thought 
it at the time. It happened thus. I had been 
playing fives in the garden and got much heated. 
Although the day was cold, for autumn was now 
advancing, and Cold Harbour (as the name of the 
town in which my prison was should be t!"anslated) 
stood fully 3000 feet above the sea, I had played 
without my coat and waistcoat, and took a sharp 
chill on resting myself too long in the open air 
without protection. The next day I had a severe 
cold and felt really poorly. Being little used even 
to the lightest ailments, and thinking that it would 
be rather nice to be petted and cossetted by Yram, 
I certainly did not make myself out to be any 
better than I was ; in fact, I remember that 1 made 
the worst of things, and took it into my head to 
consider myself upon the sick list. When Yram 

74 



In Prison 

brought me my breakfast I complained somewhat 
dolefully of my indisposition, expecting the 
sympathy and humouring which I should have re- 
ceived from my mother and sisters at home. Not 
a bit of it. She fired up in an instant, and asked 
me what I meant by it, and how I dared to 
presume to mention such a thing, especially when 
I considered in what place I was. She had the 
best mind to tell her father, only that she was 
afraid the consequences would be so very serious 
for me. Her manner was so injured and decided, 
and her anger so evidently unfeigned, that I forgot 
my cold upon the spot, begging her by all means 
to tell her father if she wished to do so, and telling 
her that I had no idea of being shielded by her 
from anything whatever ; presently mollifying, after 
having said as many biting things as I could, I 
asked her what it was that I had done amiss, and 
promised amendment as soon as ever I became 
aware of it. She saw that I was really ignorant, 
and had had no intention of being rude to her; 
whereon it came out that illness of any sort was 
considered in Erewhon to be highly criminal and 
immoral ; and that I was liable, even for catching 
cold, to be had up before the magistrates and im- 
prisoned for a considerable period — an announce- 
ment which struck me dumb with astonishment. 

I followed up the conversation as well as my 
imperfect knowledge of the language would allow, 
and caught a glimmering of her position with 
regard to ill-health ; but I did not even then fully 

75 



Erewhon 



comprehend it, nor had I as yet any idea of the 
other extraordinary perversions of thought which 
existed among the Erewhonians, but with which I 
was soon to become famihar. I propose, therefore, 
to make no mention of what passed between us on 
this occasion, save that we were reconciled, and 
that she brought me surreptitiously a hot glass of 
spirits and water before I went to bed, as also a pile 
of extra blankets, and that next morning I was 
quite well. I never remember to have lost a cold 
so rapidly. 

This little affair explained much which had 
hitherto puzzled me. It seemed that the two men 
who were examined before the magistrates on the 
day of my arrival in the country, had been given in 
charge on account of ill health, and were both con- 
demned to a long term of imprisonment with hard 
labour ; they were now expiating their offence in 
this very prison, and their exercise ground was a 
yard separated by my fives wall from the garden in 
which I walked. This accounted for the sounds of 
coughing and groaning which I had often noticed 
as coming from the other side of the wall ; it was 
high, and I had not dared to climb it for fear the 
jailor should see me and think that I was trying to 
escape ; but I had often wondered what sort of 
people they could be on the other side, and had 
resolved on asking the jailor ; but I seldom saw 
him, and Yram and I generally found other things 
to talk about. 

Another month flew by, during which I made 
76 



In Prison 



such progress in the language that I could under- 
stand all that was said to me, and express myself 
with tolerable fluency. My instructor professed 
to be astonished with the progress I had made ; I 
was careful to attribute it to the pains he had taken 
with me and to his admirable method of explaining 
my difficulties, so we became excellent friends. 

My visitors became more and more frequent. 
Among them there were some, both men and 
women, who delighted me entirely by their sim- 
plicity, unconsciousness of self, kindly genial man- 
ners, and last, but not least, by their exquisite 
beauty j there came others less well-bred, but still 
comely and agreeable people, while some were 
snobs pure and simple. 

At the end of the third month the jailor and my 
instructor came together to visit me and told me 
that communications had been received from the 
Government to the effect that if I had behaved well 
and seemed generally reasonable, and if there 
could be no suspicion at all about my bodily 
health and vigour, and if my hair was really light, 
and my eyes blue and complexion fresh, I was to be 
sent up at once to the metropolis in order that the 
King and Queen might see me and converse with 
me ; but that when I arrived there I should be set 
at liberty, and a suitable allowance would be made 
me. My teacher also told me that one of the 
leading merchants had sent me an invitation to 
repair to his house and to consider myself his 
guest for a,s long a time as I chose. "He is a 

77 



E^ewhon 



delightful man," continued the interpreter, "but 
has suffered terribly from " (here there came a long 
word which I could not quite catch, only it was 
much longer than kleptomania), "and has but 
lately recovered from embezzling a large sum of 
money under singularly distressing circumstances ; 
but he has quite got over it, and the straighteners 
say that he has made a really wonderful recovery ; 
you are sure to like him." 



CHAPTER IX 

TO THE METROPOLIS 

With the above words the good man left the room 
before I had time to express my astonishment at 
hearing such extraordinary language from the lips 
of one who seemed to be a reputable member of 
society. " Embezzle a large sum of money under 
singularly distressing circumstances ! " I exclaimed 
to myself, " and ask me to go and stay with him ! 
I shall do nothing of the sort — compromise myself 
at the very outset in the eyes of all decent people, 
and give the death-blow to my chances of either 
converting them if they are the lost tribes of Israel, 
or making money out of them if they are not ! No. 
I will do anything rather than that." And when I 
next saw my teacher I told him that I did not at all 
like the sound of what had been proposed for me, 
and that I would have nothing to do with it. For 
by my education and the example of my own 
parents, and I trust also in some degree from in- 
born instinct, I have a very genuine dislike for all 
unhandsome dealings in money matters, though 
none can have a greater regard for money than I 
have, if it be got fairly. 

The interpreter was much surprised by my 
79 



Erewhon 



-^ 



answer, and said that I should be very foolish if I 
I persisted in my refusal. 

"Mr. Nosnibor," he continued, "is a man of 
at least 500,000 horse-power" (for their way of 
reckoning and classifying men is by the number 
of foot pounds which they have money enough to 
raise, or more roughly by their horse-power), " and 
keeps a capital table ; besides, his two daughters 
are among the most beautiful women in Ere- 
whon." 

When I heard all this, I confess that I was much 
shaken, and inquired whether he was favourably 
considered in the best society. 

" Certainly," was the answer ; " no man in the 
country stands higher." 

He then went on to say that one would have 
thought from my manner that my proposed host 
had had jaundice or pleurisy or been generally 
unfortunate, and that I was in fear of infection. 

" I am not much afraid of infection," said I, 
impatiently, "but I have some regard for my 
character ; and if I know a man to be an em- 
bezzler of other people's money, be sure of it, I 
will give him as wide a berth as I can. If he were 
ill or poor " 

"111 or poor!" interrupted the interpreter, with 

a face of great alarm. "So that's your notion of 

propriety ! You would consort with the basest 

criminals, and yet deem simple embezzlement a 

bar to friendly intercourse. I cannot understand 

you." 

80 



To the Metropolis 

" But 1 am poor myself," cried I. 

" You were," said he ; " and you were liable to be 
severely punished for it, — indeed, at the council 
which was held concerning you, this fact was very 
nearly consigning you to what I should myself 
consider a well-deserved chastisement " (for he was 
getting angry, and so was I) ; " but the Queen was 
so inquisitive, and wanted so much to see you, that 
she petitioned the King and made him give you his 
pardon, and assign you a pension in consideration 
of your meritorious complexion. It is lucky for 
you that he has not heard what you have been 
saying now, or he would be sure to cancel it," 

As I heard these words my heart sank within me. 
I felt the extreme difficulty of my position, and 
how wicked I should be in running counter to 
established usage. I remained silent for several 
minutes, and then said that I should be happy 
to accept the embezzler's invitation, — on which 
my instructor brightened and said I was a sensible 
fellow. But I felt very uncomfortable. When 
he had left the room, I mused over the conversa- 
tion which had just taken place between us, but 
I could make nothing out of it, except that it 
argued an even greater perversity of mental vision 
than I had been yet prepared for. And this made 
me wretched ; for I cannot bear having much to 
do with people who think differently from myself. 
All sorts of wandering thoughts kept coming into 
my head. I thought of my master's hut, and my 
seat upon the mountain side, where I had first 

8l F 



Erewhon 



conceived the insane idea of exploring. What 
years and years seemed to have passed since I 
had begun my journey ! 

I thought of my adventures in the gorge, and on 
the journey hither, and of Chowbok. 1 wondered 
what Chowbok told them about me when he got 
back, — he had done well in going back, Chowbok 
had. He was not handsome — nay, he was hideous; 
and it would have gone hardly with him. Twi- 
light drew on, and rain pattered against the win- 
dows. Never yet had I felt so unhappy, except 
during three days of sea-sickness at the beginning 
of my voyage from England. I sat musing and 
in great melancholy, until Yram made her ap- 
pearance with light and supper. She too, poor 
girl, was miserable ; for she had heard that I 
was to leave them. She had made up her mind 
that I was to remain always in the town, even 
after my imprisonment was over ; and I fancy 
had resolved to marry me though I had never 
so much as hinted at her doing so. So what with 
the distressingly strange conversation with my 
teacher, my own friendless condition, and Yram's 
melancholy, I felt more unhappy than I can de- 
scribe, and remained so till I got to bed, and 
sleep sealed my eyelids. 

On awaking next morning I was much better. 

It was settled that I was to make my start in a 

conveyance which was to be in waiting for me 

at about eleven o'clock ; and the anticipation of 

change put me in good spirits, which even the 

82 



To the Metropolis 

tearful face of Yram could hardly altogether de- 
range. I kissed her again and again, assured her 
that we should meet hereafter, and that in the 
meanwhile I should be ever mindful of her kind- 
ness. I gave her two of the buttons off my coat 
and a lock of my hair as a keepsake, taking a 
goodly curl from her own beautiful head in 
return : and so, having said good-bye a hundred 
times, till I was fairly overcome with her great 
sweetness and her sorrow, I tore myself away 
from her and got down-stairs to the caliche which 
was in waiting. How thankful I was when it was 
all over, and I was driven away and out of sight. 
Would that I could have felt that it was out of 
mind also ! Pray heaven that it is so now, and 
that she is married happily among her own 
people, and has forgotten me 1 

And now began a long and tedious journey 
with which I should hardly trouble the reader 
if I could. He is safe, however, for the simple 
reason that I was blindfolded during the greater 
part of the time. A bandage was put upon my 
eyes every morning, and was only removed at 
nisht when I reached the inn at which we were 
to pass the night. We travelled slowly, although 
the roads were good. We drove but one horse, 
which took us our day's journey from morning 
till evening, about six hours, exclusive of two 
hours' rest in the middle of the day. I do not 
suppose we made above thirty or thirty-five miles 
on an average. Each day we had a fresh horse. 

83 



Erewhon 



As I have said already, I could see nothing of 
the country. I only know that it was level, and 
that several times we had to cross large rivers 
in ferry-boats. The inns were clean and com- 
fortable. In one or two of the larger towns they 
were quite sumptuous, and the food was good 
and well cooked. The same wonderful health 
and grace and beauty prevailed everywhere. 

I found myself an object of great interest ; so 
much so, that the driver told me he had to keep 
our route secret, and at times to go to places 
that were not directly on our road, in order to 
avoid the press that would otherwise have awaited 
us. Every evening I had a reception, and grew 
heartily tired of having to say the same things 
over and over again in answer to the same ques- 
tions, but it was impossible to be angry with 
people whose manners were so delightful. They 
never once asked after my health, or even whether 
I was fatigued with my journey ; but their first 
question was almost invariably an inquiry after 
my temper, the naivete of which astonished me 
till I became used to it. One day, being tired 
and cold, and weary of saying the same thing 
over and over again, I turned a little brusquely 
on my questioner and said that I was exceedingly 
cross, and that I could hardly feel in a worse 
humour with myself and every one else than at 
that moment. To my surprise, I was met with 
the kindest expressions of condolence, and heard 
it buzzed about the room that I was in an ill 

'^4 



To the Metropolis 

temper ; whereon people began to give me nice 
things to smell and to eat, which really did seem 
to have some temper-mending quality about them, 
for I soon felt pleased and was at once congratu- 
lated upon being better. The next morning two 
or three people sent their servants to the hotel 
with sweetmeats, and inquiries whether I had quite 
recovered from my ill humour. On receiving the 
good things I felt in half a mind to be ill-tempered 
every evening ; but I disliked the condolences and 
the inquiries, and found it most comfortable to 
keep my natural temper, which is smooth enough 
generally. 

Among those who came to visit me were some 
who had received a liberal education at the Col- 
leges of Unreason, and taken the highest degrees 
in hypothetics, which are their principal study. 
These gentlemen had now settled down to various 
employments in the country, as straighteners, 
managers and cashiers of the Musical Banks, 
priests of religion, or what not, and carrying their 
education with them they diffused a leaven of 
culture throughout the country. I naturally ques- 
tioned them about many of the things which had 
puzzled me since my arrival. I inquired what 
was the object and meaning of the statues which 
I had seen upon the plateau of the pass. I was 
told that they dated from a very remote period, 
and that there were several other such groups 
in the country, but none so remarkable as the 
one which I had seen. They had a religious 

85 



Erewhon 



origin, having been designed to propitiate the 
gods of deformity and disease. In former times 
it had been the custom to make expeditions over 
the ranges, and capture the ughest of Chowbok's 
ancestors whom they could find, in order to 
sacrifice them in the presence of these deities, 
and thus avert ugliness and disease from the 
Erewhonians themselves. It had been whispered 
(but my informant assured me untruly) that cen- 
turies ago they had even offered up some of their 
own people who were ugly or out of health, in 
order to make examples of them ; these detestable 
customs, however, had been long discontinued ; 
neither was there any present observance of the 
statues. 

I had the curiosity to inquire what would be 
done to any of Chowbok's tribe if they crossed 
over into Erewhon. I was told that nobody knew, 
inasmuch as such a thing had not happened for 
ages. They would be too ugly to be allowed to 
go at large, but not so much so as to be criminally 
liable. Their offence in having come would be a 
moral one ; but they would be beyond the straight- 
ener's art. Possibly they would be consigned to 
the Hospital for Incurable Bores, and made to 
work at being bored for so many hours a day by 
the Erewhonian inhabitants of the hospital, who 
are extremely impatient of one another's boredom, 
but would soon die if they had no one whom they 
might bore — in fact, that they would be kept as 

professional borees. When I heard this, it o^ 

86 



To the Metropolis 

curred to me that some rumours of its substance 
might perhaps have become current among Chow- 
bok's people ; for the agony of his fear had been 
too great to have been inspired by the mere dread 
of being burnt aHve before the statues. 

I also questioned them about the museum of 
old machines, and the cause of the apparent retro- 
gression in all arts, sciences, and inventions. I 
learnt that about four hundred years previously, 
the state of mechanical knowledge was far beyond 
our own, and was advancing with prodigious 
rapidity, until one of the most learned professors 
of hypothetics wrote an extraordinary book (from 
which I propose to give extracts later on), proving 
that the machines were ultimately destined to sup- 
plant the race of man, and to become instinct with 
a vitality as different from, and superior to, that 
of animals, as animal to vegetable life. So con- 
vincing was his reasoning, or unreasoning, to this 
effect, that he carried the country with him ; and 
they made a clean sweep of all machinery that had 
not been in use for more than two hundred and 
seventy-one years (which period was arrived at 
after a series of compromises), and strictly forbade 
all further improvements and inventions under pain 
of being considered in the eye of the law to be 
labouring under typhus fever, which they regard 
as one of the worst of all crimes. 

This is the only case in which they have con- 
founded mental and physical diseases, and they do 
it even here as by an avowed legal fiction. I be- 

87 



Erewhon 



came uneasy when I remembered about my watch ; 
but they comforted me with the assurance that 
transgression in this matter was now so unheard 
of, that the law could afford to be lenient towards 
an utter stranger, especially towards one who had 
such a good character (they meant physique), and 
such beautiful light hair. Moreover the watch was 
a real curiosity, and would be a welcome additioii 
to the metropolitan collection ; so they did not 
think I need let it trouble me seriously. 

I will write, however, more fully upon this sub- 
ject when I deal with the Colleges of Unreason, 
and the Book of the Machines. 

In about a month from the time of our starting 
I was told that our journey was nearly over. The 
bandage was now dispensed with, for it seemed 
impossible that I should ever be able to find my 
way back without being captured. Then we rolled 
merrily along through the streets of a handsome 
town, and got on to a long, broad, and level road, 
with poplar trees on either side. The road was 
raised slightly above the surrounding country, and 
had formerly been a railway ; the fields on either 
side were in the highest conceivable cultivation, 
but the harvest and also the vintage had been 
already gathered. The weather had got cooler 
more rapidly than could be quite accounted for. 
by the progress of the season ; so I rather thought 
that we must have been making away from the 
sun, and were some degrees farther from the 
equator than when we started. Even here the 



To the Metropolis 

vegetation showed that the chmate was a hot one, 

yet there was no lack of vigour among the people ; 

on the contrary, they were a very hardy race, and 

capable of great endurance. For the hundredth 

time I thought that, take them all round, I had 

never seen their equals in respect of physique, and 

they looked as good-natured as they were robust. 

The flowers were for the most part over, but their 

absence was in some measure compensated for by 

a profusion of delicious fruit, closely resembling 

the figs, peaches, and pears of Italy and France. 

I saw no wild animals, but birds were plentiful and 

much as in Europe, but not tame as they had been 

on the other side the ranges. They were shot at 

with the cross-bow and with arrows, gunpowder 

being unknown, or at any rate not in use. 

We were now nearing the metropolis and I 

could see great towers and fortifications, and lofty 

buildings that looked like palaces. I began to be 

nervous as to my reception ; but I had got on very 

well so far, and resolved to continue upon the 

same plan as hitherto — namely, to behave just as 

though I were in England until I saw that I was 

making a blunder, and then to say nothing till I 

could gather how the land lay. We drew nearer 

and nearer. The news of my approach had got 

abroad, and there was a great crowd collected on 

either side the road, who greeted me with marks 

of most respectful curiosity, keeping me bowing 

constantly in acknowledgement from side to side. 

When we were about a mile off, we were met 
89 



Erewhon 



I 



by the Mayor and several Councillors, among 
whom was a venerable old man, who was intro- 
duced to me by the Mayor (for so I suppose I 
should call him) as the gentleman who had invited 
me to his house. I bowed deeply and told him 
how grateful I felt to him, and how gladly I would 
accept his hospitality. He forbade me to say more, 
and pointing to his carriage, which was close at 
hand, he motioned me to a seat therein. I again 
bowed profoundly to the Mayor and Councillors, 
and drove off with my entertainer, whose name 
was Senoj Nosnibor. After about half a mile the 
carriage turned off the main road, and we drove 
under the walls of the town till we reached a 
palazzo on a slight eminence, and just on the out- 
skirts of the city. This was Senoj Nosnibor's 
house, and nothing can be imagined finer. It was 
situated near the magnificent and venerable ruins 
of the old railway station, which formed an impos- 
ing feature from the gardens of the house. The 
grounds, some ten or a dozen acres in extent, were 
laid out in terraced gardens, one above the other, 
with flights of broad steps ascending and descend- 
ing the declivity of the garden. On these steps 
there were statues of most exquisite workmanship. 
Besides the statues there were vases filled with 
various shrubs that were new to me ; and on either 
side the flights of steps there were rows of old 
cypresses and cedars, with grassy alleys between 
them. Then came choice vineyards and orchards 

of fruit-trees in full bearing. 

90 



To the Metropolis 

The house itself was approached by a court-yard, 
and round it was a corridor on to which rooms 
opened, as at Pompeii. In the middle of the court 
there was a bath and a fountain. Having passed 
the court we came to the main body of the house, 
wliich was two stories in height. The rooms were 
large and lofty ; perhaps at first they looked rather 
bare of furniture, but in hot climates people gene- 
rally keep their rooms more bare than they do in 
colder ones. I missed also the sight of a grand 
piano or some similar instrument, there being no 
means of producing music in any of the rooms save 
the larger drawing-room, where there were half a 
dozen large bronze gongs, which the ladies used 
occasionally to beat about at random. It was not 
pleasant to hear them, but I have heard quite as 
unpleasant music both before and since. 

Mr. Nosnibor took me through several spacious 
rooms till we reached a boudoir where were his 
wife and daughters, of whom I had heard from the 
interpreter. Mrs. Nosnibor was about forty years 
old, and still handsome, but she had grown very 
stout : her daughters were in the prime of youth 
and exquisitely beautiful. I gave the preference 
almost at once to the younger, whose name was 
Arowhena ; for the elder sister was haughty, while 
the younger had a very winning manner. Mrs. 
Nosnibor received me with the perfection of cour- 
tesy, so that I must have indeed been shy and 
nervous if I had not at once felt welcome. Scarcely 
was the ceremony of my introduction well com- 

91 



Erewhon 



pleted before a servant announced that dinner was 
ready in tlje next room. I was exceedingly hungry, 
and the dinner was beyond all praise. Can the 
reader wonder that I began to consider myself in 
excellent quarters? "That man embezzle money?" 
thought I to myself ; " impossible." 

But I noticed that my host was uneasy during the 
whole meal, and that he ate nothing but a little 
bread and milk ; towards the end of dinner there 
came a tall lean man with a black beard, to whom 
Mr. Nosnibor and the whole family paid great 
attention : he was the family straightener. With 
this gentleman Mr. Nosnibor retired into another 
room, from which there presently proceeded a 
sound of weeping and wailing. I could hardly be- 
lieve my ears, but in a few minutes I got to know 
for a certainty that they came from Mr. Nosnibor 
himself. 

" Poor papa," said Arowhena, as she helped her- 
self composedly to the salt, " how terribly he has 
suffered." 

" Yes," answered her mother ; "but I think he is 
quite out of danger now." 

Then they went on to explain to me the circum- 
stances of the case, and the treatment which the 
straightener had prescribed, and how successful he 
had been — all which I will reserve for another 
chapter, and put rather in the form of a general 
summary of the opinions current upon these 
subjects than m the exact words in which the facts 

were delivered to me ; the reader, however, is 

92 



To the Metropolis 

earnestly requested to believe that both in this 
next chapter and in those that follow it I have 
endeavoured to adhere most conscientiously to the 
strictest accuracy, and that I have never willingly 
misrepresented, though I may have sometimes 
failed to understand all the bearings of an opinion 
or custom. 



93 



CHAPTER X 

CURRENT OPINIONS 

This is what I gathered. That in that country if a 
man falls into ill health, or catches any disorder, 
or fails bodily in any way before he is seventy years 
old, he is tried before a jury of his countrymen, 
and if convicted is held up to public scorn and 
sentenced more or less severely as the case may 
be. There are subdivisions of illnesses into crimes 
and misdemeanours as with offences amongst our^ 
selves — a man being punished very heavily i^ 
serious illness, while failure of eyes or hearing 
in one over sixty-five, who has had good health 
hitherto, is dealt with by fine only, or imprison- 
ment in default of payment. But if a man forges 
a cheque, or sets his house on fire, or robs with 
violence from the person, or does any other such 
things as are criminal in our own country, he 
is either taken to a hospital and most carefully 
tended at the public expense, or if he is in good 
circumstances, he lets it be known to all his friends 
that he is suffering from a severe fit of immorality, 
just as we do when we are ill, and they come and 
visit him with great solicitude, and inquire with 
interest how it all came about, what symptoms 
first showed themselves, and so forth, — questions 

94 



Current Opinions 

which he will answer with perfect unreserve ; for 
bad conduct, though considered no less deplorable 
than illness with ourselves, and as unquestionably 
indicating something seriously wrong with the in- 
dividual who misbehaves, is nevertheless held to be 
the result of either pre-natal or post-natal mis-, 
fortune. 

The strange part of the story, however, is that 
though they ascribe moral defects to the effect of 
misfortune either in character or surroundings, 
they will not listen to the plea of misfortune in 
cases that in England meet with sympathy and 
commiseration only. Ill luck of any kind, or even 
ill treatment at the hands of others, is considered 
an offence against society, inasmuch as it makes 
people uncomfortable to hear of it. Loss of for- 
tune, therefore, or loss of some dear friend on 
whom another was much dependent, is punished 
hardly less severely than physical delinquency. 

Foreign, indeed, as such ideas are to our own, 
traces of somewhat similar opinions can be found 
even in nineteenth-century England. If a person 
has an abscess, the medical man will say that it 
contains " peccant " matter, and people say that 
they have a " bad " arm or linger, or that they 
are very " bad " all over, when they only mean 
" diseased." Among foreign nations Erewhonian 
opinions may be still more clearly noted. The 
Mahommedans, for example, to this day, send 
their female prisoners to hospitals, and the New 
Zealand Maories visit any misfortune with forcible 

95 



Erewhon 

entry into the house of the offender, and the break- 
ing up and burning of all his goods. The Italians, 
again, use the same word for " disgrace " and " mis- 
fortune." I once heard an Italian lady speak of a 
young friend whom she described as endowed with 
every virtue under heaven, "ma," she exclaimed, 
"povero disgraziato, ha ammazzato suo zio." ("Poor 
unfortunate fellow, he has murdered his uncle.") 

On mentioning this, which I heard when taken to 
Italy as a boy by my father, the person to whom I 
told it showed no surprise. He said that he had 
been driven for two or three years in a certain 
city by a young Sicilian cabdriver of prepossessing 
manners and appearance, but then lost sight of him. 
On asking what had become of him, he was told 
that he was in prison for having shot at his father 
with intent to kill him — happily without serious 
result. Some years later my informant again 
found himself warmly accosted by the prepos- 
sessing young cabdriver. " Ah, caro signore," 
he exclaimed, "sono cinque anni che non lo 
vedo — tre anni di militare, e due anni di dis- 
grazia," &c. (" My dear sir, it is five years since 
I saw you — three years of military service, and 
two of misfortune") — during which last the poor 
fellow had been in prison. Of moral sense he 
showed not so much as a trace. He and his 
father were now on excellent terms, and were 
likely to remain so unless either of them should 
again have the misfortune mortally to offend the 

other. 

96 



Current Opinions 

In the following chapter I will give a few ex- 
amples of the way in which what we should call 
misfortune, hardship, or disease are dealt with by 
the Erewhonians, but for the moment will return 
to their treatment of cases that with us are criminal. 
As I have already said, these, though not judicially 
punishable, are recognised as requiring correction. 
Accordingly, there exists a class of men trained in 
soul-craft, whom they call straighteners, as nearly 
as I can translate a word which literally means 
"one who bends back the crooked." These men 
practise much as medical men in England, and 
receive a quasi-surreptitious fee on every visit. 
They are treated with the same unreserve, and 
obeyed as readily, as our own doctors — that is to 
say, on the whole sufficiently — because people know 
that it is their interest to get well as soon as they 
can, and that they will not be scouted as they 
would be if their bodies were out of order, even 
though they may have to undergo a very painful 
course of treatment. 

When I say that they will not be scouted, I do 
not mean that an Erewhonian will suffer no social 
inconvenience in consequence, we will say, of hav- 
ing committed fraud. Friends will fall away from 
him because of his being less pleasant company, 
just as we ourselves are disinclined to make com- 
panions of those who are either poor or poorly. 
No one with any sense of self-respect will place 
himself on an equality in the matter of affection 

with those who are less lucky than himself in birth, 

97 c 



Erewhon 



health, money, good looks, capacity, or anything 
else. Indeed, that dislike and even disgust should 
be felt by the fortunate for the unfortunate, or at 
any rate for those who have been discovered to 
have met with any of the more serious and less 
familiar misfortunes, is not only natural, but desir- 
able for any society, whether of man or brute. 

The fact, therefore, that the Erewhonians attach 
none of that guilt to crime which they do to 
physical ailments, does not prevent the more sel- 
fish among them from neglecting a friend who has 
robbed a bank, for instance, till he has fully re- 
covered ; but it does prevent them from even 
thinking of treating criminals with that con- 
temptuous tone which would seem to say, " I, if 
I were you, should be a better man than you are," 
a tone which is held quite reasonable in regard 
to physical ailment. Hence, though they conceal 
ill health by every cunning and hypocrisy and 
artifice which they can devise, they are quite open 
about the most flagrant mental diseases, should 
they happen to exist, which to do the people 
justice is not often. Indeed, there are some who 
are, so to speak, spiritual valetudinarians, and who 
make themselves exceedingly ridiculous by their 
nervous supposition that they are wicked, while 
they are very tolerable people all the time. This 
however is exceptional ; and on the whole they 
use much the same reserve or unreserve about the 
state of their moral welfare as we do about our 

health. 

98 



Current Opinions 

Hence all the ordinary greetings among our- 
selves, such as, How do you do ? and the like, 
are considered signs of gross ill-breeding ; nor do 
the politer classes tolerate even such a common 
complimentary remark as telling a man that he is 
looking well. They salute each other with, " I hope 
you are good this morning ; " or " I hope you have 
recovered from the snappishness from which you 
were suffering when I last saw you ; " and if the 
person saluted has not been good, or is still 
snappish, he says so at once and is condoled with 
accordingly. Indeed, the straighteners have gone 
so far as to give names from the hypothetical lan- 
guage (as taught at the Colleges of Unreason), to 
all known forms of mental indisposition, and to 
classify them according to a system of their own, 
which, though I could not understand it, seemed to 
work well in practice ; for they are always able to 
tell a man what is the matter with him as soon as 
they have heard his story, and their familiarity with 
the long names assures him that they thoroughly 
understand his case. 

The reader will have no difficulty in believing 
that the laws regarding ill health were frequently 
evaded by the help of recognised fictions, which 
every one understood, but which it would be con- 
sidered gross ill-breeding to even seem to under- 
stand. Thus, a day or two after my arrival at the 
Nosnibors', one of the many ladies who called on 
me made excuses for her husband's only sending 
his card, on the ground that when gomg through 

99 



Erewhon 



the public market-place that morning he had stolen 
a pair of socks. I had already been warned that I 
should never show surprise, so I merely expressed 
my sympathy, and said that though I had only 
been in the capital so short a time, I had already 
had a very narrow escape from stealing a clothes- 
brush, and that though I had resisted temptation 
so far, I was sadly afraid that if I saw any object 
of special interest that was neither too hot nor 
too heavy, I should have to put myself in the 
straightener's hands. 

Mrs. Nosnibor, who had been keeping an ear on 
all that I had been saying, praised me when the 
lady had gone. Nothing, she said, could have been 
more polite according to Erewhonian etiquette. 
She then explained that to have stolen a pair of 
socks, or " to have the socks " (in more colloquial 
language), was a recognised way of saying that the 
person in question was slightly indisposed. 

In spite of all this they have a keen sense of the 
enjoyment consequent upon what they call being 
" well." They admire mental health and love it in 
other people, and take all the pains they can (con- 
sistently with their other duties) to secure it for them- 
selves. They have an extreme dislike to marrying 
into what they consider unhealthy families. They 
send for the straighten er at once whenever they 
have been guilty of anything seriously flagitious — 
often even if they think that they are on the point of 
committing it ; and though his remedies are some- 
times exceedingly painful, involving close confine- 



Current Opinions 

ment for weeks, and in some cases the most cruel 
physical tortures, I never heard of a reasonable 
Erewhonian refusing to do what his straightener 
told him, any more than of a reasonable English- 
man refusing to undergo even the most frightful 
operation, if his doctors told him it was necessary. 

We in England never shrink from telling our 
doctor what is the matter with us merely through 
the fear that he will hurt us. We let him do his 
worst upon us, and stand it without a murmur, 
because we are not scouted for being ill, and be- 
cause we know that the doctor is doing his best 
to cure us, and that he can judge of our case better 
than we can ; but we should conceal all illness if 
we were treated as the Erewhonians are when they 
have anything the matter with them ; we should do 
the same as with moral and intellectual diseases, — 
we should feign health with the most consummate 
art, till we were found out, and should hate a single 
flogging given in the way of mere punishment more 
than the amputation of a limb, if it were kindly and 
courteously performed from a wish to help us out 
of our difficulty, and with the full consciousness 
on the part of the doctor that it was only by an 
accident of constitution that he was not in the like 
plight himself. So the Erewhonians take a flogging 
once a week, and a diet of bread and water for two 
or three months together, whenever their straightener 
recommends it. 

I do not suppose that even my host, on having 
swindled a confiding widow out of the whole of her 



Erewhon 



property, was put to more actual suffering than a 
man will readily undergo at the hands of an Eng- 
lish doctor. And yet he must have had a very 
bad time of it. The sounds I heard were sufficient 
to show that his pain was exquisite, but he never 
shrank from undergoing it. He was quite sure that 
it did him good ; and I think he was right. I can- 
not believe that that man will ever embezzle money 
again. He may — but it will be a long time before 
he does so. 

During my confinement in prison, and on my 
journey, I had already discovered a great deal of 
the above ; but it still seemed surpassingly strange, 
and I was in constant fear of committing some 
piece of rudeness, through my inability to look at 
things from the same stand-point as my neighbours; 
but after a few weeks' stay with the Nosnibors, I 
got to understand things better, especially on hav- 
ing heard all about my host's illness, of which he 
told me fully and repeatedly 

It seemed that he had been on the Stock Ex- 
change of the city for many years and had amassed 
enormous wealth, without exceeding the limits of 
what was generally considered justifiable, or at any 
rate, permissible dealing ; but at length on several 
occasions he had become aware of a desire to 
make money by fraudulent representations, and 
had actually dealt with two or three sums in a 
way which had made him rather uncomfortable. 
He had unfortunately made light of it and pooh- 
poohed the ailment, until circumstances eventually 



Current Opinions 

presented themselves which enabled him to cheat 
upon a very considerable scale ; — he told me what 
they were, and they were about as bad as anything 
could be, but I need not detail them ; — he seized 
the opportunity, and became aware, when it was 
too late, that he must be seriously out of order. He 
had neglected himself too long. 

He drove home at once, broke the news to his 
wife and daughters as gently as he could, and sent 
off for one of the most celebrated straighteners 
of the kingdom to a consultation with the family 
practitioner, for the case was plainly serious. On 
the arrival of the straightener he told his story, 
and expressed his fear that his morals must be 
permanently impaired. 

The eminent man reassured him with a few cheer- 
ing words, and then proceeded to make a more 
careful diagnosis of the case. He inquired concern- 
ing Mr. Nosnibor's parents — had their moral health 
been good ? He was answered that there had not 
been anything seriously amiss with them, but that 
his maternal grandfather, whom he was supposed 
to resemble somewhat in person, had been a con- 
summate scoundrel and had ended his days in 
a hospital, — while a brother of his father's, after 
having led a most flagitious life for many years, 
had been at last cured by a philosopher of a new 
school, which as far as I could understand it bore 
much the same relation to the old as homoeopathy 
to allopathy. The straightener shook his head at 
this, and laughingly replied that the cure must have 

103 



Erewhon 



been due to nature. After a few more questions he 
wrote a prescription and departed. 

I saw the prescription. It ordered a fine to the 
State of double the money embezzled ; no food 
but bread and milk for six months, and a severe 
flogging once a month for twelve. I was surprised 
to see that no part of the fine was to be paid to the 
poor woman whose money had been embezzled, 
but on inquiry I learned that she would have been 
prosecuted in the Misplaced Confidence Court, if 
she had not escaped its clutches by dying shortly 
after she had discovered her loss. 

As for Mr. Nosnibor, he had received his eleventh 
flogging on the day of my arrival. I saw him later 
on the same afternoon, and he was still twinged ; 
but there had been no escape from following out 
the straightener's prescription, for the so-called 
sanitary laws of Erewhon are very rigorous, and 
unless the straightener was satisfied that his orders 
had been obeyed, the patient would have been 
taken to a hospital (as the poor are), and would 
have been much worse off. Such at least is the 
law, but it is never necessary to enforce it. 

On a subsequent occasion I was present at an 

interview between Mr. Nosnibor and the family 

straightener, who was considered competent to 

watch the completion of the cure. I was struck 

with the delicacy with which he avoided even the 

remotest semblance of inquiry after the physical 

well-being of his patient, though there was a certain 

yellowness about my host's eyes which argued a 

104 



Current Opinions 

bilious habit of body. To have taken notice of 
this would have been a gross breach of professional 
etiquette. I was told, however, that a straightener 
sometimes thinks it right to glance at the possibility 
of some slight physical disorder if he finds it im- 
portant in order to assist him in his diagnosis ; but 
the answers which he gets are generally untrue or 
evasive, and he forms his own conclusions upon 
the matter as well as he can. Sensible men have 
been known to say that the straightener should in 
strict confidence be told of every physical ailment 
that is likely to bear upon the case ; but people are 
naturally shy of doing this, for they do not like 
lowering themselves in the opinion of the straight- 
ener, and his ignorance of medical science is su- 
preme. I heard of one lady, indeed, who had the 
hardihood to confess that a furious outbreak of ill- 
humour and extravagant fancies for which she was 
seeking advice was possibly the result of indisposi- 
tion. " You should resist that," said the straightener, 
in a kind, but grave voice ; " we can do nothing for 
the bodies of our patients ; such matters are beyond 
our province, and I desire that I may hear no fur- 
ther particulars." The lady burst into tears, and 
promised faithfully that she would never be unwell 
again. 

But to return to Mr. Nosnibor. As the afternoon 
wore on many carriages drove up with callers to 
inquire how he had stood his (logging. It had 
been very severe, but the kind inquiries upon every 

side gave him great pleasure, and he assured me 

105 



Erewhon 



that he felt almost tempted to do wrong again by 
the solicitude with which his friends had treated 
him during his recovery : in this I need hardly say 
that he was not serious. 

During the remainder of my stay in the country 
Mr. Nosnibor was constantly attentive to his busi- 
ness, and largely increased his already great posses- 
sions ; but I never heard a whisper to the effect of 
his having been indisposed a second time, or made 
money by other than the most strictly honourable 
means. I did hear afterwards in confidence that 
there had been reason to believe that his health had 
been not a little affected by the straightener's treat- 
ment, but his friends did not choose to be over- 
curious upon the subject, and on his return to his 
affairs it was by common consent passed over as 
hardly criminal in one who was otherwise so much 
afflicted. For they regard bodily ailments as the 
more venial in proportion as they have been pro- 
duced by causes independent of the constitution. 
Thus if a person ruin his health by excessive indul- 
gence at the table or by drinking, they count it to 
be almost a part of the mental disease which 
brought it about, and so it goes for little, but they 
have no mercy on such illnesses as fevers or 
catarrhs or lung diseases, which to us appear to 
be beyond the control of the individual. They 
are only more lenient towards the diseases of the 
young — such as measles, which they think to be 
like sowing one's wild oats — and look over them as 

pardonable indiscretions if they have not been too 

1 06 



Current Opinions 

serious, and if they are atoned for by complete sub- 
sequent recovery. 

It is hardly necessary to say that the office of 
straightener is one which requires long and special 
training. It stands to reason that he who would 
cure a moral ailment must be practically acquainted 
with it in all its bearings. The student for the 
profession of straightener is required to set apart 
certain seasons for the practice of each vice in turn, 
as a religious duty. These seasons are called 
"fasts," and are continued by the student until he 
finds that he really can subdue all the more usual 
vices in his own person, and hence can advise his 
patients from the results of his own experience. 

Those who intend to be specialists, rather than 
general practitioners, devote themselves more par- 
ticularly to the branch in which their practice will 
mainly lie. Some students have been obliged to 
continue their exercises during their whole lives, 
and some devoted men have actually died as 
martyrs to the drink, or gluttony, or whatever 
branch of vice they may have chosen for their 
especial study. The greater number, however, take 
no harm by the excursions into the various depart- 
ments of vice which it is incumbent upon them to 
study. 

For the Erewhonians hold that unalloyed virtue 

is not a thing to be immoderately indulged in. I 

was shown more than one case in which the real 

or supposed virtues of parents were visited upon 

the children to the third and fourth generation. 

toy 



Erewhon 



The straighteners say that the most that can be truly 
said for virtue is that there is a considerable balance 
in its favour, and that it is on the whole a good 
deal better to be on its side than against it ; but 
they urge that there is much pseudo-virtue going 
about, which is apt to let people in very badly 
before they find it out. Those men, they say, are • 
best who are not remarkable either for vice or 
virtue. I told them about Hogarth's idle and in- 
dustrious apprentices, but they did not seem to 
think that the industrious apprentice was a very 
nice person. 



to8 



CHAPTER XI 

SOME EREWHONIAN TRIALS 

In Erewhon as in other countries there are some 
courts of justice that deal with special subjects. 
Misfortune generally, as I have above explained, is 
considered more or less criminal, but it admits of 
classification, and a court is assigned to each of the 
main heads under which it can be supposed to fall. 
Not very long after I had reached the capital I 
strolled into the Personal Bereavement Court, and 
was much both interested and pained by listening 
to the trial of a man who was accused of having 
just lost a wife to whom he had been tenderly 
attached, and who had left him with three little 
children, of whom the eldest was only three years 
old. 

The defence which the prisoner's counsel en- 
deavoured to establish was, that the prisoner had 
never really loved his wife ; but it broke down 
completely, for the public prosecutor called witness 
after witness who deposed to the fact that the 
couple had been devoted to one another, and the 
prisoner repeatedly wept as incidents were put in 
evidence that reminded him of the irreparable 
nature of the loss he had sustained. The jury 

returned a verdict of guilty after very little deli- 

109 



Erewhon 



beration, but recommended the prisoner to mercy 
on the ground that he had but recently insured his 
wife's Hfe for a considerable sum, and might be 
deemed lucky inasmuch as he had received the 
money without demur from the insurance com- 
pany, though he had only paid two premiums. 

I have just said that the jury found the prisoner 
guilty. When the judge passed sentence, I was 
struck with the way in which the prisoner's counsel 
was rebuked for having referred to a work in which 
the guilt of such misfortunes as the prisoner's was 
extenuated to a degree that roused the indignation 
of the court. 

"We shall have," said the judge, "these crude 
and subversionary books from time to time until it 
is recognised as an axiom of morality that luck is 
the only fit object of human veneration. How far 
a man has any right to be more lucky and hence 
more venerable than his neighbours, is a point that 
always has been, and always will be, settled proxi- 
mately by a kind of higgling and haggling of the 
market, and ultimately by brute force ; but how- 
ever this may be, it stands to reason that no man 
should be allowed to be unlucky to more than a 
very moderate extent." 

Then, turning to the prisoner, the judge 
continued : — " You have suffered a great loss. 
Nature attaches a severe penalty to such offences, 
and human law must emphasise the decrees of 
nature. But for the recommendation of the jury 
I should have given you six months' hard labour. 



Some Erewhonian Trials 

I will, however, commute your sentence to one of 
three months, with the option of a fine of twenty- 
five per cent, of the money you have received from 
the insurance company." 

The prisoner thanked the judge, and said that as 
he had no one to look after his children if he was 
sent to prison, he would embrace the option mer- 
cifully permitted him by his lordship, and pay the 
sum he had named. He was then removed from 
the dock. 

The next case was that of a youth barely arrived 
at man's estate, who was charged with having been 
swindled out ot large property during his minority 
by his guardian, who was also one of his nearest 
relations. His father had been long dead, and it 
was for this reason that his offence came on for 
trial in the Personal Bereavement Court. The lad, 
who was undefended, pleaded that he was young, 
inexperienced, greatly m awe of his guardian, and 
without independent professional advice. "Young 
man," said the judge sternly, " do not talk non- 
sense. People have no right to be young, inex- 
perienced, greatly in awe of their guardians, and 
without independent professional advice. If by 
such indiscretions they outrage the moral sense of 
their friends, they must expect to suffer accord- 
ingly." He then ordered the prisoner to apologise 
to his guardian, and to receive twelve strokes with a 
cat-of-nine-tails. 

But I shall perhaps best convey to the reader an 
idea of the entire perversion of thought which 



Erewhon 

exists among this extraordinary people, by describ- 
ing the pubHc trial of a man who was accused of 
pulmonary consumption — an offence which was, 
punished with death until quite recently. It didl 
not occur till I had been some months in the coun- 
try, and I am deviating from chronological order 
in giving it here ; but I had perhaps better do so 
in order that I may exhaust this subject before 
proceeding to others. Moreover I should never 
come to an end were I to keep to a strictly narra- 
tive form, and detail the infinite absurdities with 
which I daily came in contact. 

The prisoner was placed in the dock, and the 
jury were sworn much as in Europe ; almost all 
our own modes of procedure were reproduced, 
even to the requiring the prisoner to plead guilty 
or not guilty. He pleaded not guilty, and the case 
proceeded. The evidence for the prosecution was 
very strong ; but I must do the court the justice to 
observe that the trial was absolutely impartial. 
Counsel for the prisoner was allowed to urge every- 
thing that could be said in his defence : the line 
taken was that the prisoner was simulating con- 
sumption in order to defraud an insurance com- 
pany, from which he was about to buy an annuity, 
and that he hoped thus to obtain it on more ad- 
vantageous terms. If this could have been shown 
to be the case he would have escaped a criminal 
prosecution, and been sent to a hospital as for a 
moral ailment. The view, however, was one which 
could not be reasonably sustained, in spite of all 

112 



Some Erewhonian Trials 

the ingenuity and eloquence of one of the most 
celebrated advocates of the country. The case 
was only too clear, for the prisoner was almost at 
the point of death, and it was astonishing that he 
had not been tried and convicted long previously. 
His coughing was incessant during the whole trial, 
and it was all that the two jailors in charge of him 
could do to keep him on his legs until it was over. 

The summing up of the judge was admirable. 
He dwelt upon every point that could be construed 
in favour of the prisoner, but as he proceeded it 
became clear that the evidence was too convincing 
to admit of doubt, and there was but one opinion 
in the court as to the impending verdict when the 
jury retired from the box. They were absent for 
about ten minutes, and on their return the foreman 
pronounced the prisoner guilty. There was a faint 
murmur of applause, but it was instantly repressed. 
The judge then proceeded to pronounce sentence 
in words which I can never forget, and which I 
copied out into a note-book next day from the 
report that was published in the leading newspaper. 
I must condense it somewhat, and nothing which I 
could say would give more than a faint idea of the 
solemn, not to say majestic, severity with which it 
was delivered. The sentence was as follows : — 

" Prisoner at the bar, you have been accused of 
the great crime of labouring under pulmonary 
consumption, and after an impartial trial before 
a jury of your countrymen, you have been found 
guilty. Against the justice of the verdict I can say 

113 H 



Erewhon 



nothing : the evidence against you was conclusive, 
and it only remains for me to pass such a sentence 
upon you, as shall satisfy the ends of the law. 
That sentence must be a very severe one. It pains 
me much to see one who is yet so young, and 
whose prospects in life were otherwise so excellent, 
brought to this distressing condition by a constitu- 
tion which I can only regard as radically vicious ; 
but yours is no case for compassion : this is not 
your first offence : you have led a career of crime, 
and have only profited by the leniency shown you 
upon past occasions, to offend yet more seriously 
against the laws and institutions of your country. 
You were convicted of aggravated bronchitis last 
yeai : and I find that though you are now only 
twenty-three years old, you have been imprisoned 
on no less than fourteen occasions for illnesses of 
a more or less hateful character ; in fact, it is not 
too much to say that you have spent the greater 
part of your life in a jail. 

" It is all very well for you to say that you came 
of unhealthy parents, and had a severe accident in 
your childhood which permanently undermined 
your constitution ; excuses such as these are the 
ordinary refuge of the criminal ; but they cannot 
for one moment be listened to by the ear of justice. 
I am not here to enter upon curious metaphysical 
questions as to the origin of this or that — questions 
to which there would be no end were their intro^ 
duction once tolerated, and which would result iif 

throwing the only guilt on the tissues of the 

114 



Some Erewhonian Trials 

primordial cell, or on the elementary gases. There 
is no question of how you came to be wicked, 
but only this — namely, are you wicked or not ? 
This has been decided in the affirmative, neither 
can I hesitate for a single moment to say that 
it has been decided justly. You are a bad and 
dangerous person, and stand branded in the eyes 
of your fellow-countrymen with one of the most 
heinous known offences. 

" It is not my business to justify the law : the law 
may in some cases have its inevitable hardships, 
and I may feel regret at times that I have not the 
option of passing a less severe sentence than I 
am compelled to do. But yours is no such case ; 
on the contrary, had not the capital punishment 
for consumption been abolished, I should certainly 
inflict it now. 

" It is intolerable that an example of such terrible 
enormity should be allowed to go at large un- 
punished. Your presence in the society of re- 
spectable people would lead the less able-bodied 
to think more lightly of all forms of illness ; neither 
can it be permitted that you should have the chance 
of corrupting unborn beings who might hereafter 
pester you. The unborn must not be allowed to 
come near you : and this not so much for their 
protection (for they are our natural enemies), as 
for our own ; for since they will not be utterly 
gainsaid, it must be seen to that they shall be 
quartered upon those who are least likely to corrupt 
them. 

"5 



Erewhon 



et|| 



" But independently of this consideration, and' 
independently of the physical guilt which attaches 
itself to a crime so great as yours, there is yetj 
another reason why we should be unable to sho 
you mercy, even if we were inclined to do so. I 
refer to the existence of a class of men who lie 
hidden among us, and who are called physicians. 
Were the severity of the law or the current feeling 
of the country to be relaxed never so slightly, 
these abandoned persons, who are now compelled 
to practise secretly and who can be consulted only 
at the greatest risk, would become frequent visitors 
in every household ; their organisation and their 
intimate acquaintance with all family secrets woul 
give them a power, both social and political, which 
nothing could resist. The head of the householc 
would become subordinate to the family doctofj 
who would interfere between man and wife, be 
tween master and servant, until the doctors shoulc 
be the only depositaries of power in the nation 
and have all that we hold precious at their mercy, 
A time of universal dephysicahsation would ensue 
medicine-vendors of all kinds would abound in oui 
streets and advertise in all our newspapers. Then 
is one remedy for this, and one only. It is tha 
which the laws of this country have long receivec 
and acted upon, and consists in the sternest re- 
pression of all diseases whatsoever, as soon as theii 
existence is made manifest to the eye of the law, 
Would that that eye were far more piercing thar 

it is. 

ii6 



- 



Some Erewhonian Trials 

" But I will enlarge no further upon things that 
are themselves so obvious. You may say that 
it is not your fault. The answer is ready enough 
at hand, and it amounts to this — that if you had 
been born of healthy and well-to-do parents, and 
been well taken care of when you were a child, 
you would never have offended against the laws 
of your country, nor found yourself in your present 
disgraceful position. If you tell me that you had 
no hand in your parentage and education, and that 
it is therefore unjust to lay these things to your 
charge, I answer that whether your being in a 
consumption is your fault or no, it is a fault in 
you, and it is my duty to see that against such 
faults as this the commonwealth shall be protected. 
You may say that it is your misfortune to be 
criminal ; I answer that it is your crime to be 
unfortunate. 

" Lastly, I should point out that even though the 
jury had acquitted you — a supposition that I cannot 
seriously entertain — I should have felt it my duty 
to inflict a sentence hardly less severe than that 
which I must pass at present; for the more you 
had been found guiltless of the crime imputed to 
you, the more you would have been found guilty 
of one hardly less heinous — I mean the crime of 
having been maligned unjustly. 

" I do not hesitate therefore to sentence you to 
imprisonment, with hard labour, for the rest of your 
miserable existence. During that period I would 
earnestly entreat you to repent of the wrongs you 

»i7 



Erewhon 



have done already, and to entirely reform the con- 
stitution of your whole body. I entertain but little 
hope that you will pay attention to my advice ; you- 
are already far too abandoned. Did it rest with' 
myself, I should add nothing in mitigation of the 
sentence which I have passed, but it is the mercifuli 
provision of the law that even the most hardened 
criminal shall be allowed some one of the three 
official remedies, which is to be prescribed at the 
time of his conviction. I shall therefore order that 
you receive two tablespoonfuls of castor oil daily, 
until the pleasure of the court be further known." 

When the sentence was concluded the prisoner 
acknowledged in a few scarcely audible words that 
he was justly punished, and that he had had a fair 
trial. He was then removed to the prison from 
which he was never to return. There was a second 
attempt at applause when the judge had finished 
speaking, but as before it was at once repressed ; 
and though the feeling of the court was strongly 
against the prisoner, there was no show of any 
violence against him, if one may except a little 
hooting from the bystanders when he was being 
removed in the prisoners' van. Indeed, nothing 
struck me more during my whole sojourn in the 
country, than the general respect for law and 
order. 



Ii8 



CHAPTER XII 

MALCONTENTS 

I CONFESS that I felt rather unhappy when I got 
home, and thought more closely over the trial that 
I had just witnessed. For the time I was carried 
away by the opinion of those among whom I was. 
They had no misgivings about what they were 
doing. There did not seem to be a person in the 
whole court who had the smallest doubt but that 
all was exactly as it should be. This universal 
unsuspecting confidence was imparted by sympathy 
to myself, in spite of all my training in opinions so 
widely different. So it is with most of us : thal^ 
which we observe to be taken as a matter of course^ 
by those around us, we take as a matter of cour^ 
ourselves. And after all, it is our duty to do this, 
save upon grave occasion. 

But when I was alone, and began to think the 
trial over, it certainly did strike me as betraying a 
strange and untenable position. Had the judge 
said that he acknowledged the probable truth, 
namely, that the prisoner was born of unhealthy 
parents, or had been starved in infancy, or had 
met with some accidents which had developed con- 
sumption ; and had he ^hen gone on to say that 

though he knew all this, and bitterly regretted th^i 

119 



Erewhon 



the protection of society obliged him to inflict 
additional pain on one who had suffered so much 
already, yet that there was no help for it, I could 
have understood the position, however mistaken I 
might have thought it. The judge was fully per- 
suaded that the infliction of pain upon the weak 
and sickly was the only means of preventing weak- 
ness and sickliness from spreading, and that ten 
times the suffering now inflicted upon the accused 
was eventually warded off from others by the 
present apparent severity. I could therefore per- 
fectly understand his mflicting whatever pain he 
might consider necessary in order to prevent so 
bad an example from spreading further and lower- 
ing the Erewhonian standard ; but it seemed almost 
childish to tell the prisoner that he could have been 
in good health, if he had been more fortunate in 
his constitution, and been exposed to less hardships 
when he was a boy. 

I write with great diffidence, but it seems to me 
that there is no unfairness in punishing people for 
their misfortunes, or rewarding them for their sheer 
good luck : it is the normal condition of human life 
that this should be done, and no right-minded 
person will complain of being subjected to the 
common treatment. There is no alternative open 
to us. It is idle to say that men are not respon- 
sible for their misfortunes. What is responsibility ? 
Surely to be responsible means to be liable to have 
to give an answer should it be demanded, and all 
things which live are responsible for their lives and 



Malcontents 



actions should society see fit to question them 
through the mouth of its authorised agent. 

What IS the offence of a lamb that we should 
rear it, and tend it, and lull it mto security, for the 
express purpose of killing it ? Its offence is the 
misfortune of being something which society wants 
to eat, and which cannot defend itself. This is 
ample. Who shall hmit the right of society except 
society itself ? And what consideration for the 
individual is tolerable unless society be the gainer 
thereby ? Wherefore should a man be so richly 
rewarded for having been son to a millionaire, were 
it not clearly provable that the common welfare is 
thus better furthered ? We cannot seriously de- 
tract from a man's merit in having been the son 
of a rich father without imperilling our own tenure 
of things which we do not wish to jeopardise ; if 
this were otherwise we should not let him keep his 
money for a single hour ; we would have it our- 
selves at once. For property is robbery, but then, 
we are all robbers or would-be robbers together, 
and have found it essential to organise our thieving, 
as we have found it necessary to organise our lust 
and our revenge. Property, marriage, the law ; as 
the bed to the river, so rule and convention to the 
instinct ; and woe to him who tampers with the 
banks while the flood is flowing. 

But to return. Even in England a man on 
board a ship with yellow fever is held responsible 
for his mischance, no matter what his being kept 
in quarantine may cost him. He may catch the 

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Erewhon 

fever and die ; we cannot help it ; he must take his 
chance as other people do ; but surely it would be 
desperate unkindness to add contumely to our self- 
protection, unless, indeed, we believe that contumely 
is one of our best means of self-protection. Again, 
take the case of maniacs. We say that they are irre- 
sponsible for their actions, but we take good care, or 
ought to take good care, that they shall answer to us 
for their insanity, and we imprison them in what we 
call an asylum (that modern sanctuary !) if we do 
not like their answers. This is a strange kind of 
irresponsibility. What we ought to say is that we 
can afford to be satisfied with a less satisfactory 
answer from a lunatic than from one who is not 
mad, because lunacy is less infectious than crime. 

We kill a serpent if we go in danger by it, simply 
for being such and such a serpent in such and such 
a place ; but we never say that the serpent has only 
itself to blame for not having been a harmless 
creature. Its crime is that of being the thing 
which it is: but this is a capital offence, and we 
are right in killing it out of the way, unless we 
think it more danger to do so than to let it escape ; 
nevertheless we pity the creature, even though we 
kill it. 

But in the case of him whose trial I have de- 
scribed above, it was imposible that any one in the 
court should not have known that it was but by 
an accident of birth and circumstances that he was 
not himself also in a consumption ; and yet none 
thought that it disgraced them to hear the judge 



Malcontents 



give vent to the most cruel truisms about him. 
The judge himself was a kind and thoughtful 
person. He was a man of magnificent and benign 
presence. He was evidently of an iron consti- 
tution, and his face wore an expression of the 
maturest wisdom and experience ; yet for all this, 
old and learned as he was, he could not see things 
which one would have thought would have been 
apparent even to a child. He could not emancipate 
himself from, nay, it did not even occur to him to 
feel, the bondage of the ideas in which he had 
been born and bred. 

So was it also with the jury and bystanders ; 
and — most wonderful of all — so was it even with 
the prisoner. Throughout he seemed fully im- 
pressed with the notion that he was being dealt 
with justly : he saw nothing wanton in his being 
told by the judge that he was to be punished, not 
so much as a necessary protection to society 
(although this was not entirely lost sight of), as 
because he had not been better born and bred than 
he was. But this led me to hope that he suffered 
less than he would have done if he had seen the 
matter in the same light that I did. And, after all; 
justice is relative. 

I may here mention that only a few years before 
iny arrival in the country, the treatment of all con- 
victed invalids had been much more barbarous 
than now, for no physical remedy was provided, 
and prisoners were put to the severest labour in 

all sorts of weather, so that most of them soon 

123 



Erewhon 



succumbed to the extreme hardships which they 
suffered ; this was supposed to be beneficial in 
some ways, inasmuch as it put the country to less 
expense for the maintenance of its criminal class ; 
but the growth of luxury had induced a relaxation 
of the old severity, and a sensitive age would no 
longer tolerate what appeared to be an excess of 
rigour, even towards the most guilty ; moreover, 
it was found that juries were less willing to convict, 
and justice was often cheated because there was 
no alternative between virtually condemning a man 
to death and letting him go free ; it was also held 
that the country paid in recommittals for its over- 
severity ; for those who had been imprisoned even 
for trifling ailments were often permanently dis- 
abled by their imprisonment ; and when a man had 
been once convicted, it was probable that he would 
seldom afterwards be off the hands of the country. 
These evils had long been apparent and recog- 
nised ; yet people were too indolent, and too 
indifferent to suffering not their own, to bestir 
themselves about putting an end to them, until at 
last a benevolent reformer devoted his whole life 
to effecting the necessary changes. He divided 
all illnesses into three classes — those affecting the 
head, the trunk, and the lower limbs — and obtained 
an enactment that all diseases of the head, whether 
internal or external, should be treated with lauda- 
num, those of the body with castor-oil, and those 
of the lower limbs with an embrocation of strong 

sulphuric acid and water. 

124 



Malcontents 



It may be said that the classification was not 
sufficiently careful, and that the remedies were ill 
chosen ; but it is a hard thing to initiate any re- 
form, and it was necessary to familiarise the public 
mind with the principle, by inserting the thin end 
of the wedge first : it is not, therefore, to be won- 
dered at that among so practical a people there 
should still be some room for improvement. The 
mass of the nation are well pleased with existing 
arrangements, and believe that their treatment of 
criminals leaves little or nothing to be desired ; but 
there is an energetic minority who hold what are 
considered to be extreme opinions, and who are 
not at all disposed to rest contented until the prin- 
ciple lately admitted ha3 been carried further. 

I was at some pains to discover the opinions of 
these men, and their reasons for entertaining them. 
They are held in great odium by the generality of 
the public, and are considered as subverters of all 
morality whatever. The malcontents, on the other 
hand, assert that illness is the inevitable result 
of certain antecedent causes, which, in the great 
majority of cases, were beyond the control of the 
individual, and that therefore a man is only guilty 
for being in a consumption in the same way as 
rotten fruit is guilty for having gone rotten. True, 
the fruit must be thrown on one side as unfit for 
man's use, and the man in a consumption must 
be put in prison for the protection of his fellow- 
citizens ; but these radicals would not punish him 
further than by loss of liberty and a strict surveil- 

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Erewhon 

lance. So long as he was prevented from injuring 
society, they would allow him to make himself 
useful by supplying whatever of society's wants 
he could supply. If he succeeded in thus earning 
money, they would have him made as comfortable 
in prison as possible, and would in no way inter- 
fere with his liberty more than was necessary to 
prevent him from escaping, or from becoming 
more severely indisposed within the prison walls ; 
but they would deduct from his earnings the ex- 
penses of his board, lodging, surveillance, and half 
those of his conviction. If he was too ill to do 
anything for his support in prison, they would 
allow him nothing but bread and water, and very 
little of that. 

They say that society is foolish in refusing to 
allow itself to be benefited by a man merely 
because he has done it harm hitherto, and that 
objection to the labour of the diseased classes 
is only protection in another form. It is an 
attempt to raise the natural price of a commodity 
by saying that such and such persons, who are 
able and willing to produce it, shall not do so, 
whereby every one has to pay more for it. 

Besides, so long as a man has not been actually 

killed he is our fellow-creature, though perhaps 

a very unpleasant one. It is in a great degree the 

doing of others that he is what he is, or in other 

words, the society which now condemns him is 

partly answerable concerning him. They say that 

there is no fear of any increase of disease under 

126 



_J 



Malcontents 



these circumstances ; for the loss of liberty, the 
surveillance, the considerable and compulsory de- 
duction from the prisoner's earnings, the very 
sparing use of stimulants (of which they would 
allow but little to any, and none to tliose who did 
not earn them), the enforced celibacy, and above 
all, the loss of reputation among friends, are in 
their opinion as ample safeguards to society 
against a general neglect of health as those now 
resorted to. A man, therefore, (so they say) should 
carry his profession or trade into prison with him 
if possible ; if not, he must earn his living by the 
nearest thing to it that he can ; but if he be a 
gentleman born and bred to no profession, he 
must pick oakum, or write art criticisms for a 
newspaper. 

These people say further, that the greater part 
of the illness which exists in their country is 
brought about by the insane manner in which 
it is treated. 

They believe that illness is in many cases just 
as curable as the moral diseases which they see 
daily cured around them, but that a great re- 
form is impossible till men learn to take a juster 
view of what physical obliquity proceeds from. 
Men will hide their illnesses as long as they are 
scouted on its becoming known that they are 
ill ; it is the scouting, not the physic, which 
produces the concealment ; and if a man felt that 
the news of his being in ill-health would be re- 
ceived by his neighbours as a deplorable fact, 

127 



Erewhon 

but one as much the result of necessary ante- 
cedent causes as though he had broken into a 
jeweller's shop and stolen a valuable diamond 
necklace — as a fact which might just as easily 
have happened to themselves, only that they had 
the luck to be better born or reared ; and if they 
also felt that they would not be made more un- 
comfortable in the prison than the protection of 
society against infection and the proper treat- 
ment of their own disease actually demanded, 
men would give themselves up to the police as 
readily on perceiving that they had taken small- 
pox, as they go now to the straightener when 
they feel that they ane on the point ot forging 
a will, or running away with somebody else's 
wife. 

But the main argument on which they rely is 
that of economy ; for they know that they will 
sooner gain their end by appealing to men's 
pockets, in which they have generally something 
of their own, than to their heads, which contain 
for the most part little but borrowed or stolen 
property ; and also, they believe it to be the 
readiest test and the one which has most to show 
for itself. If a course of conduct can be shown 
to cost a country less, and this by no dishonourable 
saving and with no indirectly increased expendi- 
ture in other ways, they hold that it requires a 
good deal to upset the arguments in favour of 
its being adopted, and whether rightly or wrongly 

I cannot pretend to say, they think that the more 

128 



Malcontents 



medicinal and humane treatment of the diseased 
of which they are the advocates would in the long 
run be much cheaper to the country : but 1 did 
not gather that these reformers were opposed 
to meeting some of the more violent forms of 
illness with the cat-of-nine-tails, or with death ; 
for they saw no so effectual way of checking 
them ; they would therefore both flog and hang, 
but they would do so pitifully. 

I have perhaps dwelt too long upon opinion? 
which can have no possible bearing upon our 
own, but I have not said the tenth part of whaf 
these would-be reformers urged upon me. I feel, 
however, that I have sufficiently trespassed upon 
the attention of the reader. 



129 



CHAPTER XIII 

THE VIEWS OF THE EREWHONIANS 
CONCERNING DEATH 

The Erewhonians regard death with less abhor 
rence than disease. If it is an offence at all, it is 
one beyond the reach of the law, which is there- 
fore silent on the subject ; but they insist that the 
greater number of those who are commonly said to 
die, have never yet been born — not, at least, into 
that unseen world which is alone worthy of con- 
sideration. As regards this unseen world I under- 
stand them to say that some miscarry in respect to 
it before they have even reached the seen, andi 
some after, while few are ever truly born into it at 
all — the greater part of all the men and women 
over the whole country miscarrying before they 
reach it. And they say that this does not matter so 
much as we think it does. 

As for what we call death, they argue that too 
much has been made of it. The mere knowledge 
that we shall one day die does not make us very 
unhappy ; no one thinks that he or she will escape, 
so that none are disappointed. We do not care 
greatly even though we know that we have not 
long to live ; the only thing that would seriously 

affect us would be the knowing — or rather thinking 

130 



I 



Views Concerning Death 

that we know — the precise moment at which the 
blow will fall. Happily no one can ever certainly 
know this, though many try to make themselves 
miserable by endeavouring to find it out. It seems 
as though there were some power somewhere which 
mercifully stays us from putting that sting into the 
tail of death, which we would put there if we could, 
and which ensures that though death must always 
be a bugbear, it shall never under any conceivable 
circumstances be more than a bugbear. 

For even though a man is condemned to die in a 
week's time and is shut up in a prison from which 
it is certain that he cannot escape, he will always 
hope that a reprieve may come before the week is 
over. Besides, the prison may catch fire, and he 
may be suffocated not with a rope, but with com- 
mon ordinary smoke ; or he may be struck dead 
by lightning while exercising in the prison yards. 
When the morning is come on which the poor 
wretch is to be hanged, he may choke at his break- 
fast, or die from failure of the heart's action before 
the drop has fallen ; and even though it has fallen, 
he cannot be quite certain that he is going to die, 
for he cannot know this till his death has actually 
taken place, and it will be too late then for him to 
discover that he was going to die at the appointed 
hour after all. The Erewhonians, therefore, hold 
that death, like life, is an affair of being more 
frightened than hurt. 

They burn their dead, and the ashes are presently 
scattered over any piece of ground which the deceased 

131 



m 



Erewhon 



may himself have chosen. No one is permitted to 
refuse this hospitaUty to the dead : people, there- 
fore, generally choose some garden or orchard 
which they may have known and been fond of 
when they were young. The superstitious hold 
that those whose ashes are scattered over any land 
become its jealous guardians from that time for- 
ward ; and the living like to think that they shall 
become identified with this or that locality where 
they have once been happy. 

They do not put up monuments, nor write 
epitaphs, for their dead, though in former ages 
their practice was much as ours, but they have a 
custom which comes to much the same thing, for 
the instinct of preserving the name alive after the 
death of the body seems to be common to all man^ 
kind. They have statues of themselves made whil^ 
they are still alive (those, that is, who can afford it) 
and write inscriptions under them, which are oftei 
quite as untruthful as are our own epitaphs — onl] 
in another way. For they do not hesitate to d« 
scribe themselves as victims to ill temper, jealousy, 
covetousness, and the like, but almost always lay 
claim to personal beauty, whether they have it or 
not, and, often, to the possession of a large sum in 
the funded debt of the country. If a person is 
ugly he does not sit as a model for his own statue, 
although it bears his name. He gets the hand^l 
somest of his friends to sit for him, and one of the 
ways of paying a compliment to another is to ask 

him to sit for such a statue. Women generally sil 

132 7 



Views Concerning Death 

for their own statues, from a natural disinclination 
to admit the superior beauty of a friend, but they 
expect to be idealised. I understood that the 
multitude of these statues was beginning to be felt 
as an encumbrance in almost every family, and that 
the custom would probably before long fall into 
desuetude. 

Indeed, this has already come about to the satis- 
faction of every one, as regards the statues of 
public men — not more than three of which can 
be found in the whole capital. I expressed my 
surprise at this, and was told that some five hun- 
dred years before my visit, the city had been so 
overrun with these pests, that there was no getting 
about, and people were worried beyond endurance 
by having their attention called at every touch and 
turn to something, which, when they had attended 
to it, they found not to concern them. Most of 
these statues were mere attempts to do for some 
man or woman what an animal-stuffer does more 
successfully for a dog, or bird, or pike. \They were( 
generally foisted on the public by some coteriej 
that was trying to exalt itself in exalting some onel 
else, and not unfrequently they had no other in-\ 
ception than desire on the part of some member 1 
of the coterie to find a job for a young sculptor 
to whom his daughter was engaged.N Statues so 
begotten could never be anything but deformities, 
and this is the way in which they are sure to be 
begotten, as soon as the art of making them at all 
has become widely practised. 

133 



Erewhon 



I know not why, but all the noblest arts hold 
in perfection but for a very little moment. They 
soon reach a height from which they begin to 
decline, and when they have begun to decline it 
is a pity that they cannot be knocked on the head ; 
for an art is like a living organism — better dead 
than dying. There is no way of making an aged 
art young again ; it must be born anew and grow 
up from infancy as a new thing, working out its 
own salvation from effort to effort in all fear and 
trembling. 

The Erewhonians five hundred years ago under- 
stood nothing of all this — I doubt whether they even 
do so now. They wanted to get the nearest thing 
they could to a stuffed man whose stuffing should 
not grow mouldy. They should have had some 
such an establishment as our Madame Tussaud's, 
where the figures wear real clothes, and are" painted 
up to nature. Such an institution might have been 
made self-supporting, for people might have been 
made to pay before going in. As it was, they 
had let their poor cold grimy colourless heroes 
and heroines loaf about in squares and in corners 
of streets in all weathers, without any attempt at 
artistic sanitation — for there was no provision for 
burying their dead works of art out of their sight 
— no drainage, so to speak, whereby statues that 
had been sufficiently assimilated, so as to form 
part of the residuary impression of the country, 
might be carried away out of the system. Hence 

they put them up with a light heart on the cackling 

134 



Views Concerning Death 

of their coteries, and they and their children had 
to live, often enough, with some wordy windbag 
whose cowardice had cost the country untold loss 
in blood and money. 

At last the evil reached such a pitch that the 
people rose, and with indiscriminate fury destroyed 
good and bad alike. Most of what was destroyed 
was bad, but some few works were good, and the 
sculptors of to-day wring their hands over some 
of the fragments that have been preserved in 
museums up and down the country. For a couple 
of hundred years or so, not a statue was made from 
one end of the kingdom to the other, but the in- 
stinct for having stuffed men and women was so 
strong, that people at length again began to try 
to make them. Not knowing how to make them, 
and having no academies to mislead them, the 
earliest sculptors of this period thought things out 
for themselves, and again produced works that were 
full of interest, so that in three or four generations 
they reached a perfection hardly if at all inferior to 
that of several hundred years earlier. 

On this the same evils recurred. Sculptors 
obtained high prices — the art became a trade — 
schools arose which professed to sell the holy 
spirit of art for money; pupils flocked from far 
and near to buy it, in the hopes of selling it later 
on, and were struck purblind as a punishment 
for the sin of those who sent them. Before long 
a second iconoclastic fury would infallibly have 
followed, but for the prescience of a statesman 

135 



Erewhon 



who succeeded in passing an Act to the effect 
that no statue of any pubHc man or woman should 
be allowed to remain unbroken for more than fifty 
years, unless at the end of that time a jury of 
twenty-four men taken at random from the street 
pronounced in favour of its being allowed a second 
fifty years of life. Every fifty years this recon- 
sideration was to be repeated, and unless there was 
a majority of eighteen in favour of the retention 
of the statue, it was to be destroyed. 

Perhaps a simpler plan would have been to for- 
bid the erection of a statue to any public man or 
woman till he or she had been dead at least one 
hundred years, and even then to insist on recon- 
sideration of the claims of the deceased and the 
merit of the statue every fifty years — but the work- 
ing of the Act brought about results that on the 
whole were satisfactory. For in the first place, 
many public statues that would have been voted 
under the old system, were not ordered, when it 
was known that they would be almost certainly 
broken up after fifty years, and in the second, 
public sculptors knowing their work to be so ephe- 
meral, scamped it to an extent that made it ofl"ensive 
even to the most uncultured eye. Hence before 
long subscribers took to paying the sculptor for 
the statue of their dead statesmen, on condition 
that he did not make it. The tribute of respect was 
thus paid to the deceased, the public sculptors were 
not mulcted, and the rest of the public suffered no 

inconvenience. 

n6 



>^- 



Views Concerning Death 

I was told, however, that an abuse of this custom 
is growing up, inasmuch as the competition for the 
commission not to make a statue is so keen, that 
sculptors have been known to return a considerable 
part of the purchase money to the subscribers, by 
an arrangement made with them beforehand. Such 
transactions, however, are always clandestine. A 
small inscription is let into the pavement, where 
the public statue would have stood, which informs 
the reader that such a statue has been ordered for 
the person, whoever he or she may be, but that as 
yet the sculptor has not been able to complete it. 
There has been no Act to repress statues that are 
intended for private consumption, but as I have 
said, the custom is falling into desuetude. 

Returning to Erewhonian customs in connection 
with death, there is one which I can hardly pass 
over. When any one dies, the friends of the family 
write no letters of condolence, neither do they 
attend the scattering, nor wear mourning, but they 
send little boxes filled with artificial tears, and with 
the name of the sender painted neatly upon the out- 
side of the lid. The tears vary in number from two 
to fifteen or sixteen, according to degree of inti- 
macy or relationship ; and people sometimes find 
it a nice point of etiquette to know the exact 
number which they ought to send. Strange as it 
may appear, this attention is highly valued, and its 
omission by those from whom it might be expected 
is keenly felt. These tears were formerly stuck 

with adhesive plaster to the cheeks of the bereaved, 

137 



Erewhon 



and were worn in public for a few months after the 
death of a relative ; they were then banished to the 
hat or bonnet, and are now no longer worn. 

The birth of a child is looked upon as a painful 
subject on which it is kinder not to touch : the ill- 
ness of the mother is carefully concealed until the 
necessity for signing the birth-formula (of which 
hereafter) renders further secrecy impossible, and 
for some months before the event the family live in 
retirement, seeing very little company. When the 
offence is over and done with, it is condoned by the 
common want of logic ; for this merciful provision 
of nature, this buffer against collisions, this friction 
which upsets our calculations but without which 
existence would be intolerable, this crowning glory 
of human invention whereby we can be blind and 
see at one and the same moment, this blessed in- 
consistency, exists here as elsewhere ; and though 
the strictest writers on morality have maintained 
that it is wicked for a woman to have children at 
all, inasmuch as it is wrong to be out of health that 
good may come, yet the necessity of the case has 
caused a general feeling in favour of passing over 
such events in silence, and of assuming their non- 
existence except in such flagrant cases as force 
themselves on the public notice. Against these the 
condemnation of society is inexorable, and if it is 
believed that the illness has been dangerous and 
protracted, it is almost impossible for a woman to 
recover her former position in society. 

The above conventions struck me as arbitrary 
138 



Views Concerning Death 

and cruel, but they put a stop to many fancied ail- 
ments ; for the situation, so far from being con- 
sidered interesting, is looked upon as savouring 
more or less distinctly of a very reprehensible con- 
dition of things, and the ladies take care to conceal 
it as long as they can even from their own hus- 
bands, in anticipation of a severe scolding as soon 
as the misdemeanour is discovered. Also the baby 
is kept out of sight, except on the day of sign- 
ing the birth-formula, until it can walk and talk. 
Should the child unhappily die, a coroner's in- 
quest is inevitable, but in order to avoid disgracing 
a family which may have been hitherto respected, 
it is almost invariably found that the child was over 
seventy-five years old, and died from the decay of 
nature. 



'39 



CHAPTER XIV 

MAHAINA 

I CONTINUED my sojourn with the Nosnibors. In 
a few days Mr. Nosnibor had recovered from his 
flogging, and was looking forward with glee to the 
fact that the next would be the last. I did not 
think that there seemed any occasion even for 
this ; but he said it was better to be on the safe 
side, and he would make up the dozen. He now 
went to his business as usual ; and I understood 
that he was never more prosperous, in spite of his 
heavy fine. He was unable to give me much of 
his time during the day ; for he was one of those 
valuable men who are paid, not by the year, month, 
week, or day, but by the minute. His wife and 
daughters, however, made much of me, and intro- 
duced me to their friends, who came in shoals to 
call upon me. 

One of these persons was a lady called Mahaina. 
Zulora (the elder of my host's daughters) ran up 
to her and embraced her as soon as she entered 
the room, at the same time inquiring tenderly after 
her "poor dipsomania." Mahaina answered that 
it was just as bad as ever ; she was a perfect martyr 
to it, and her excellent health was the only thing 

which consoled her under her affliction. 

140 



Mahaina 



Then the other ladies joined in with condolences 
and the never-failing suggestions which they had 
ready for every mental malady. They recom- 
mended their own straightener and disparaged 
Mahaina's. Mrs. Nosnibor had a favourite nos- 
trum, but I could catch little of its nature. I 
heard the words "full confidence that the desire 
to drink will cease when the formula has been 
repeated * * * this confidence is everything * * * 
far from undervaluing a thorough determination 
never to touch spirits again * * * fail too often 

* * * formula a certain cure (with great emphasis) 

* * * prescribed form * * * full conviction." 
The conversation then became more audible, and 
was carried on at considerable length. I should 
perplex myself and the reader by endeavouring to 
follow the ingenious perversity of all they said ; 
enough, that in the course of time the visit came 
to an end, and Mahaina took her leave receiving 
affectionate embraces from all the ladies. I had 
remained in the background after the first cere- 
mony of introduction, for I did not like the looks 
of Mahaina, and the conversation displeased me. 
When she left the room I had some consolation in 
the remarks called forth by her departure. 

At first they fell to praising her very demurely. 

She was all this that and the other, till I disliked 

her more and more at every word, and inquired 

how it was that the straighteners had not been 

able to cure her as they had cured Mr. Nosnibor. 

There was a shade of significance on Mrs. Nos- 
141 



Erewhon 



nibor's face as I said this, which seemed to imply 
that she did not consider Mahaina's case to be 
quite one for a straightener. It flashed across me 
that perhaps the poor woman did not drink at 
all. I knew that I ought not to have inquired, but 
I could not help it, and asked point blank whether 
she did or not. 

"We can none of us judge of the condition of 
other people," said Mrs. Nosnibor in a gravely 
charitable tone and with a look towards Zulora. 

"Oh, mamma," answered Zulora, pretending to 
be half angry but rejoiced at being able to say 
out what she was already longing to insinuate ; " I 
don't believe a word of it. It's all indigestion. I 
remember staying in the house with her for a 
whole month last summer, and I am sure she 
never once touched a drop of wine or spirits. The 
fact is, Mahaina is a very weakly girl, and she 
pretends to get tipsy in order to win a forbearance 
from her friends to which she is not entitled. She 
is not strong enough for her calisthenic exercises, 
and she knows she would be made to do them 
unless her inability was referred to moral causes." 

Here the younger sister, who was ever sweet and 
kind, remarked that she thought Mahaina did tipple 
occasionally. "I also think," she added, "that she 
sometimes takes poppy juice." 

"Well, then, perhaps she does drink sometimes," 

said Zulora ; " but she would make us all think 

that she does it much oftener in order to hide her 

weakness." 

142 



Mahaina 



And so they went on for half an hour and more, 
bandymg about the question as to how far their 
late visitor's intemperance was real or no. Every 
now and then they would join in some charitable 
commonplace, and would pretend to be all of one 
mind that Mahaina was a person whose bodily 
health would be excellent if it were not for her 
unfortunate inability to refrain from excessive 
drinking ; but as soon as this appeared to be fairly 
settled they began to be uncomfortable until they 
had undone their work and left some serious im- 
putation upon her constitution. At last, seeing that 
the debate had assumed the character of a cyclone 
or circular storm, going round and round and round 
and round till one could never say where it began 
nor where it ended, I made some apology for an 
abrupt departure and retired to my own room. 

Here at least I was alone, but I was very un- 
happy. I had fallen upon a set of people who, in 
spite of their high civilisation and many excellences, 
had been so warped by the mistaken views pre- 
sented to them during childhood from generation 
to generation, that it was impossible to see how 
they could ever clear themselves. Was there 
nothing which I could say to make them feel 
that the constitution of a person's body was a 
thing over which he or she had had at any rate 
no initial control whatever, while the mind was 
a perfectly different thing, and capable of being 
created anew and directed according to the plea- 
sure of its possessor ? Could I never bring them 

143 



Erewhon 



to see that while habits of mind and character were 
entirely independent of initial mental force and 
early education, the body was so much a creature 
of parentage and circumstances, that no punish- 
ment for ill-health should be ever tolerated save 
as a protection from contagion, and that even 
where punishment was inevitable it should be 
attended with compassion ? Surely, if the un- 
fortunate Mahaina were to feel that she could 
avow her bodily weakness without fear of being 
despised for her infirmities, and if there were 
medical men to whom she could fairly state her 
case, she would not hesitate about doing so 
through the fear of taking nasty medicine. It was 
possible that her malady was incurable (for I had 
heard enough to convince me that her dipsomania 
was only a pretence and that she was temperate 
in all her habits) ; in that case she might perhaps 
be justly subject to annoyances or even to restraint; 
but who could say whether she was curable or 
not, until she was able to make a clean breast 
of her symptoms instead of concealing them ? In 
their eagerness to stamp out disease, these people 
overshot their mark ; for people had become so 
clever at dissembhng — they painted their faces 
with such consummate skill — they repaired the 
decay of time and the effects of mischance with 
such profound dissimulation — that it was really 
impossible to say whether any one was well or ill 
till after an intimate acquaintance of months or 

years. Even then the shrewdest were constantly 

144 



Mahaina 



mistaken in their judgements, and marriages were 
often contracted with most deplorable results, owing 
to the art with which infirmity had been concealed. 
It appeared to me that the first step towards the 
cure of disease should be the announcement of 
the fact to a person's near relations and friends. 
If any one had a headache, he ought to be per- 
mitted within reasonable limits to say so at once, 
and to retire to his own bedroom and take a pill, 
without every one's looking grave and tears being 
shed and all the rest of it. As it was, even upon 
hearing it whispered that somebody else was 
subject to headaches, a whole company must look 
as though they had never had a headache in their 
lives. It is true they were not very prevalent, 
for the people were the healthiest and most comely 
imaginable, owing to the severity with which ill 
health was treated ; still, even the best were liable 
to be out of sorts sometimes, and there were few 
families that had not a medicine-chest in a cup- 
board somewhere. 



145 



CHAPTER XV 

THE MUSICAL BANKS 

On my return to the drawing-room, I found that 
the Mahaina current had expended itself. The 
ladies were just putting away their work and 
preparing to go out. I asked them where they 
were going. They answered with a certain air of 
reserve that they were going to the bank to get 
some money. 

Now I had already collected that the mercantile 
affairs of the Erewhonians were conducted on a 
totally different system from our own ; I had, how- 
ever, gathered little hitherto, except that they had 
two distinct commercial systems, of which the one 
appealed more strongly to the imagination than 
anything to which we are accustomed in Europe, 
inasmuch as the banks that were conducted upon 
this system were decorated in the most profuse 
fashion, and all mercantile transactions were 
accompanied with music, so that they were called 
Musical Banks, though the music was hideous to 
a European ear. 

As for the system itself I never understood it, 

neither can I do so now: they have a code in 

connection with it, which I have not the slightest 

doubt that they understand, but no foreigner can 

146 



The Musical Banks 

hope to do so. One rule runs into, and against, 
another as in a most comphcated grammar, or as 
in Chinese pronunciation, wherein I am told that 
the slightest change in accentuation or tone of voice 
alters the meaning of a whole sentence. Whatever 
IS incoherent in my description must be referred to 
the fact of my never having attained to a full com- 
prehension of the subject. 

So far, however, as I could collect anything 
certain, I gathered that they have two distinct 
currencies, each under the control of its own banks 
and mercantile codes. One of these (the one with 
the Musical Banks) was supposed to be the system, 
and to give out the currency in which all monetary 
transactions should be carried on ; and as far as \ 
could see, all who wished to be considered respect- 
able, kept a larger or smaller balance at these 
banks. On the other hand, if there is one thing of 
which I am more sure than another, it is that the 
amount so kept had no direct commercial value in 
the outside world ; I am sure that the managers 
and cashiers of the Musical Banks were not paid in 
their own currency. Mr. Nosnibor used to go to 
these banks, or rather to the great mother bank of 
the city, sometimes but not very often. He was a 
pillar of one of the other kind of banks, though he 
appeared to hold some minor office also in the 
musical ones. The ladies generally went alone ; as 
indeed was the case in most families, except on 
state occasions. 

I had long wanted to know more of this strange 
147 



Erewhon 

system, and had the greatest desire to accompany 
my hostess and her daughters. I had seen them 
go out almost every morning since my arrival and 
had noticed that they carried their purses in their 
hands, not exactly ostentatiously, yet just so as that 
those who met them should see whither they were 
going. I had never, however, yet been asked to go 
with them myself. 

It is not easy to convey a person's manner by 
words, and I can hardly give any idea of the 
peculiar feeling that came upon me when I saw the 
ladies on the point of starting for the bank. There 
was a something of regret, a something as though 
they would wish to take me with them, but did not 
like to ask me, and yet as though I were hardly to 
ask to be taken. I was determined, however, to 
bring matters to an issue with my hostess about my 
going with them, and after a little parleying, and 
many inquiries as to whether I was perfectly sure 
that I myself wished to go, it was decided that I 
might do so. 

We passed through several streets of more or less 
considerable houses, and at last turning round a 
corner we came upon a large piazza, at the end of 
which was a magnificent building, of a strange but 
ooble architecture and of great antiquity. It did 
not open directly on to the piazza, there being a 
screen, through which was an archway, between 
the piazza and the actual precincts of the bank. 
On passing under the archway we entered upon a 
green sward, round which there ran an arcade or 



The Musical Banks 

cloister, while in front of us uprose the majestic 
towers of the bank and its venerable front, which 
was divided into three deep recesses and adorned 
with all sorts of marbles and many sculptures. On 
either side there were beautiful old trees wherein 
the birds were busy by the hundred, and a number 
of quaint but substantial houses of singularly com- 
fortable appearance ; they were situated in the 
midst of orchards and gardens, and gave me an 
impression of great peace and plenty. 

Indeed it had been no error to say that this 
building was one that appealed to the imagination ; 
it did more — it carried both imagination and judge- 
ment by storm. It was an epic in stone and 
marble, and so powerful was the effect it produced 
on me, that as I beheld it I was charmed and 
melted. I felt more conscious of the existence of 
a remote past. One knows of this always, but the 
knowledge is never so living as in the actual 
presence of some witness to the life of bygone ages. 
I felt how short a space of human life was the 
period of our own existence. I was more impressed 
with my own littleness, and much more inclinable 
to believe that the people whose sense of the fitness 
of things was equal to the upraising of so serene a 
handiwork, were hardly likely to be wrong in the 
conclusions they might come to upon any subject. 
My feeling certainly was that the currency of this 
bank must be the right one. 

We crossed the sward and entered the building. 

If the outside had been impressive the inside was 

149 



Erewhon 



even more so. It was very lofty and divided into 
several parts by walls which rested upon massive 
pillars ; the windows were filled with stained glass 
descriptive of the principal commercial incidents of 
the bank for many ages. In a remote part of the 
building there were men and boys singing ; this 
was the only disturbing feature, for as the gamut 
was still unknown, there was no music in the 
country which could be agreeable to a European 
ear. The singers seemed to have derived their in- 
spirations from the songs of birds and the wailing of 
the wind, which last they tried to imitate in melan- 
choly cadences that at times degenerated into a 
howl. To my thinking the noise was hideous, but 
it produced a great effect upon my companions, 
who professed themselves much moved. As soon 
as the singing was over, the ladies requested me to 
stay where I was while they went inside the place 
from which it had seemed to come. 

During their absence certain reflections forced 
themselves upon me. 

In the first place, it struck me as strange that the 

building should be so nearly empty ; I was almost 

alone, and the few besides myself had been led by 

curiosity, and had no intention of doing business 

with the bank. But there might be more inside. 

I stole up to the curtain, and ventured to draw the 

extreme edge of it on one side. No, there was 

hardly any one there. I saw a large number of 

cashiers, all at their desks ready to pay cheques, 

and one or two who seemed to be the managing 

ISO 



The Musical Banks 

partners. I also saw my hostess and her daughters 
and two or three other ladies ; also three or four 
old women and the boys from one of the neighbour- 
ing Colleges of Unreason ; but there was no one 
else. This did not look as though the bank was 
doing a very large business ; and yet I had always 
been told that every one in the city dealt with this 
establishment. 

I cannot describe all that took place in these 
inner precincts, for a sinister-looking person in a 
black gown came and made unpleasant gestures at 
me for peeping. I happened to have in my pocket 
one of the Musical Bank pieces, which had been 
given me by Mrs. Nosnibor, so I tried to tip him 
with it ; but having seen what it was, he became so 
angry that I had to give him a piece of the other 
kind of money to pacify him. When I had done 
this he became civil directly. As soon as he was 
gone I ventured to take a second look, and saw 
Zulora in the very act of giving a piece of paper 
which looked like a cheque to one of the cashiers. 
He did not examine it, but putting his hand into an 
antique coffer hard by, he pulled out a quantity of 
metal pieces apparently at random, and handed 
them over without counting them ; neither did 
Zulora count them, but put them into her purse 
and went back to her seat after dropping a few 
pieces of the other coinage into an alms box that 
stood by the cashier's side. Mrs. Nosnibor and 
Arowhena then did likewise, but a little later they 
gave all (so far as I could see) that they had 

151 



Erewhon 



received from the cashier back to a verger, who I 
have no doubt put it back into the coffer from 
vi^hich it had been taken. They then began making 
towards the curtain ; whereon I let it drop and re- 
treated to a reasonable distance. 

They soon joined me. For some few minutes we 
all kept silence, but at last I ventured to remark 
that the bank was not so busy to-day as it probably 
often was. On this Mrs. Nosnibor said that it was 
indeed melancholy to see what little heed people 
paid to the most precious of all institutions. I 
could say nothing in reply, but I have ever been of 
opinion that the greater part of mankind do ap- 
proximately know where they get that which does 
them good. 

Mrs. Nosnibor went on to say that I must not 
think there was any want of confidence in the 
bank because I had seen so few people there ; the 
heart of the country was thoroughly devoted to 
these establishments, and any sign of their being in 
danger would bring in support from the most un- 
expected quarters. It was only because people 
knew them to be so very safe, that in some cases 
(as she lamented to say in Mr. Nosnibor's) they felt 
that their support was unnecessary. Moreover 
these institutions never departed from the safest 
and most approved banking principles. Thus they 
never allowed interest on deposit, a thing now fre- 
quently done by certain bubble companies, which 
by doing an illegitimate trade had drawn many cus- 
tomers away ; and even the shareholders were 

152 



The Musical Banks 

fewer than formerly, owing to the innovations of 
these unscrupulous persons, for the Musical Banks 
paid little or no dividend, but divided their profits 
by way of bonus on the original shares once in 
every thirty thousand years ; and as it was now 
only two thousand years since there had been one 
of these distributions, people felt that they could 
not hope for another in their own time and pre- 
ferred investments whereby they got some more 
tangible return ; all which, she said, was very 
melancholy to think of. 

Having made these last admissions, she returned 
to her original statement, namely, that every one in 
the country really supported these banks. As to 
the fewness of the people, and the absence of the 
able-bodied, she pointed out to me with some jus- 
tice that this was exactly what we ought to expect. 
The men who were most conversant about the 
stability of human institutions, such as the lawyers, 
men of science, doctors, statesmen, painters, and 
the like, were just those who were most hkely to be 
misled by their own fancied accomplishments, and 
to be made unduly suspicious by their licentious 
desire for greater present return, which was at the 
root of nine-tenths of the opposition ; by their 
vanity, which would prompt them to affect superi- 
ority to the prejudices of the vulgar ; and by the 
stings of their own conscience, which was con- 
stantly upbraiding them in the most cruel manner 
on account of their bodies, which were generally 
diseased. 

153 



Erewhon 



Let a person's intellect (she continued) be never 
so sound, unless his body is in absolute health, he 
can form no judgement worth having on matters of 
this kind. The body is everything : it need not 
perhaps be such a strong body (she said this 
because she saw that I was thinking of the old and 
infirm-looking folks whom I had seen in the bank), 
but it must be in perfect health ; in this case, the 
less active strength it had the more free would be 
the working of the intellect, and therefore the 
sounder the conclusion. The people, then, whom 
I had seen at the bank were in reality the very ones 
whose opinions were most worth having ; they de- 
clared its advantages to be incalculable, and even 
professed to consider the immediate return to be 
far larger than they were entitled to ; and so she 
ran on, nor did she leave off till we had got back to 
the house. 

She might say what she pleased, but her manner 
carried no conviction, and later on I saw signs of 
general indifference to these banks that were not to 
be mistaken. Their supporters often denied it, but 
the denial was generally so couched as to add another 
proof of its existence. In commercial panics, and in 
times of general distress, the people as a mass did 
not so much as even think of turning to these banks. 
A few might do so, some from habit and early 
training, some from the instinct that prompts us to 
catch at any straw when we think ourselves drown- 
ing, but few from a genuine belief that the Musical 
Banks could save them from financial ruin, if they 

154 



^ The Musical Banks 

were unable to meet their engagements in the other 
kind of currency. 

In conversation with one of the Musical Bank 
managers I ventured to hint this as plainly as polite- 
ness would allow. He said that it had been more 
or less true till lately ; but that now they had put 
fresh stained glass windows into all the banks in the 
country, and repaired the buildings, and enlarged 
the organs ; the presidents, moreover, had taken to 
riding in omnibuses and talking nicely to people in 
the streets, and to remembering the ages of their 
children, and giving them things when they were 
naughty, so that all would henceforth go smoothly. 

" But haven't you done anything to the money 
itself ? " said I, timidly. 

"It is not necessary," he rejoined; "not in the 
least necessary, I assure you." 

And yet any one could see that the money given 
out at these banks was not that with which people 
bought their bread, meat, and clothing. It was 
like it at a first glance, and was stamped with de- 
signs that were often of great beauty ; it was not, 
again, a spurious coinage, made with the intention 
that it should be mistaken for the money in actual 
use ; it was more like a toy money, or the counters 
used for certain games at cards ; for, notwithstand- 
ing the beauty of the designs, the material on which 
they were stamped was as nearly valueless as pos- 
sible. Some were covered with tin foil, but the 
greater part were frankly of a cheap base metal the 
exact nature of which I was not able to determine. 

IS5 



Erewhon 



Indeed they were made of a great variety of metals, 
or, perhaps more accurately, alloys, some of which 
were hard, while others would bend easily and 
assume almost any form which their possessor 
might desire at the moment. 

Of course every one knew that their commercial 
v^lue was nily but all those who wished to be con- 
sidered respectable thought it incumbent upon 
them to retain a few coins in their possession, and 
to let them be seen from time to time in their hands 
and purses. Not only this, but they would stick to 
it that the current coin of the realm was dross in 
comparison with the Musical Bank coinage. Per- 
haps, however, the strangest thing of all was that 
these very people would at times make fun in small 
ways of the whole system ; indeed, there was hardly 
any insinuation against it which they would not 
tolerate and even applaud in their daily newspapers 
if written anonymously, while if the same thing 
were said without ambiguity to their faces — nomi- 
native case verb and accusative being all in their 
right places, and doubt impossible — they would 
consider themselves very seriously and justly out- 
raged, and accuse the speaker of being unwell. 

I never could understand (neither can I quite do 

so now, though I begin to see better what they 

mean) why a single currency should not suffice 

them ; it would seem to me as though all their 

dealings would have been thus greatly simplified ; 

but I was met with a look of horror if ever I dared 

to hint at it. Even those who to my certain know- 

X56 



The Musical Banks 

ledge kept only just enough money at the Musical 
Banks to swear by, would call the other banks 
(where their securities really lay) cold, deadening, 
paralysing, and the like. 

I noticed another thing, moreover, which struck 
me greatly. I was taken to the opening of one of 
these banks in a neighbouring town, and saw a 
large assemblage of cashiers and managers. I sat 
opposite them and scanned their faces attentively. 
They did not please me ; they lacked, with few ex- 
ceptions, the true Erewhonian frankness ; and an 
equal number from any other class would have 
looked happier and better men. When I met them 
in the streets they did not seem like other people, 
but had, as a general rule, a cramped expression 
upon their faces which pained and depressed me. 

Those who came from the country were better ; 
they seemed to have lived less as a separate class, 
and to be freer and healthier ; but in spite of my 
seeing not a few whose looks were benign and 
noble, I could not help asking myself concerning 
the greater number of those whom I met, whether 
Erewhon would be a better country if their ex- 
pression were to be transferred to the people in 
general. I answered myself emphatically, no. The 
expression on the faces of the high Ydgrunites was 
that which one would wish to diffuse, and not that 
of the cashiers. 

A man's expression is his sacrament ; it is the 
outward and visible sign of his inward and spiritual 
grace, or want of grace ; and as I looked at the 

IS7 



Erewhon 



majority of these men, I could not help feeling that 
there must be a something in their lives which had 
stunted their natural development, and that they 
would have been more healthily minded in any 
other profession. I was always sorry for them, for 
in nine cases out of ten they were well-meaning 
persons ; they were in the main very poorly paid ; 
their constitutions were as a rule above suspicion ; 
and there were recorded numberless instances of 
their self-sacrifice and generosity ; but they had had 
the misfortune to have been betrayed into a false 
position at an age for the most part when their 
judgement was not matured, and after having been 
kept in studied ignorance of the real difficulties of 
the system. But this did not make their position 
the less a false one, and its bad effects upon them- 
selves were unmistakable. 

Few people would speak quite openly and freely 
before them, which struck me as a very bad sign. 
When they were in the room every one would talk 
as though all currency save that of the Musical 
Banks should be abolished ; and yet they knew 
perfectly well that even the cashiers themselves 
hardly used the Musical Bank money more than 
other people. It was expected of them that they 
should appear to do so, but this was all. The less 
thoughtful of them did not seem particularly un- 
happy, but many were plainly sick at heart, though 
perhaps they hardly knew it, and would not have 
owned to being so. Some few were opponents of 
the whole system ; but these were liable to be dis- 

158 



The Musical Banks 

missed from their employment at any moment, and 
this rendered them very careful, for a man who had 
once been cashier at a Musical Bank was out of the 
field for other employment, and was generally un- 
fitted for it by reason of that course of treatment 
which was commonly called his education. In fact 
it was a career from which retreat was virtually 
impossible, and into which young men were genei 
ally induced to enter before they could be reason- 
ably expected, considering their training, to have 
formed any opinions of their own. Not unfre- 
quently, indeed, they were induced, by what we in 
England should call undue influence, concealment, 
and fraud. Few indeed were those who had the 
courage to insist on seeing both sides of the ques- 
tion before they committed themselves to what was 
practically a leap in the dark. One would have 
thought that caution in this respect was an ele- 
mentary principle, — one of the first things that an 
honourable man would teach his boy to understand ; 
but in practice it was not so. 

I even saw cases in which parents bought the 
right of presenting to the office of cashier at one 
of these banks, with the fixed determination that 
some one of their sons (perhaps a mere child) 
should fill it. There was the lad himself — growing 
up with every promise of becoming a good and 
honourable man — but utterly without warning con- 
cerning the iron shoe which his natural protector 
was providing for him. Who could say that the 
whole thing would not end in a life-long lie, and 

'59 



Erewhon 



vain chafing to escape ? I confess that there were 
few things in Erewhon which shocked me more 
than this. 

Yet we do something not so very different from 
this even in England, and as regards the dual com- 
mercial system, all countries have, and have had, a 
law of the land, and also another law, which, 
though professedly more sacred, has far less effect 
on their daily life and actions. It seems as though 
the need for some law over and above, and some- , 
times even conflicting with, the law of the land, | 
must spring from something that lies deep down 
in man's nature ; indeed, it is hard to think that g 
man could ever have become man at all, but for 
the gradual evolution of a perception that though 
this world looms so large when we are in it, it 
may seem a little thing when we have got away 
from it. 

When man had grown to the perception that in 
the everlasting Is-and-Is-Not of nature, the world 
and all that it contains, including man, is at the 
same time both seen and unseen, he felt the need 
of two rules of life, one for the seen, and the other 
for the unseen side of things. For the laws affect- 
ing the seen world he claimed the sanction of seen 
powers ; for the unseen (of which he knows nothing 
save that it exists and is powerful) he appealed to 
the unseen power (of which, again, he knows 
nothing save that it exists and is powerful) to 
which he gives the name of God. 

Some Erewhonian opinions concerning the intel- 
i6o 



The Musical Banks 

ligence of the unborn embryo, that I regret my 
space will not permit me to lay before the reader, 
have led me to conclude that the Erewhonian. 
Musical Banks, and perhaps the religious systems 
of all countries, are now more or less of an 
attempt to uphold the unfathomable and un- 
conscious instinctive wisdom of millions of past 
generations, against the comparatively shallow, con- 
sciously reasoning, and ephemeral conclusions 
drawn from that of the last thirty or forty. 

The saving feature of the Erewhonian Musical 
Bank system (as distinct from the quasi-idolatrous 
views which coexist with it, and on which I will 
touch later) was that while it bore witness to the 
existence of a kingdom that is not of this world, it 
made no attempt to pierce the veil that hides it 
from human eyes. It is here that almost all re-\ 
ligions go wrong. Their priests try to make us 
believe that they know more about the unseen 
world than those whose eyes are still blinded by 
the seen, can ever know — forgetting that while to 
deny the existence of an unseen kingdom is bad, 
to pretend that we know more about it than its 
bare existence is no better. 

This chapter is already longer than I intended, 
but I should like to say that in spite of the saving 
feature of which I have just spoken, I cannot help 
thinking that the Erewhonians are on the eve of 
some great change in their religious opinions, or 
at any rate in that part of them which finds ex- 
pression through their Musical Banks. So far as I 

l6l L 



Erewhon 

could see, fully ninety per cent, of the population 
of the metropolis looked upon these banks with 
something not far removed from contempt. If this 
is so, any such startling event as is sure to arise 
sooner or later, may serve as nucleus to a new 
order of things that will be more in harmony with 
both the heads and hearts of the people. 



fM 



CHAPTER XVI 

AROWHENA 

The reader will perhaps have learned by this time 
a thing which I had myself suspected before I had 
been twenty-four hours in Mr. Nosnibor's house — 
I mean, that though the Nosnibors showed me every 
attention, I could not cordially like them, with the 
exception of Arowhena who was quite different 
from the rest. They were not fair samples of 
Erewhonians. I saw many families with whom 
they were on visiting terms, whose manners 
charmed me more than I know how to say, but 
I never could get over my original prejudice against 
Mr. Nosnibor for having embezzled the money. 
Mrs. Nosnibor, too, was a very worldly woman, 
yet to hear her talk one would have thought that 
she was singularly the reverse ; neither could I 
endure Zulora; Arowhena however was perfection. 
She it was who ran all the little errands for her 
mother and Mr. Nosnibor and Zulora, and gave 
those thousand proofs of sweetness and unsel- 
fishness which some one member of a family is 
generally required to give. All day long it was 
Arowhena this, and Arowhena that ; but she never 
seemed to know that she was being put upon, and 

was always bright and willing from morning till 

163 



Erewhon 



evening. Zulora certainly was very handsome, but 
Arowhena was infinitely the more graceful of the 
two and was the very ne plus ultra of youth and 
beauty. I will not attempt to describe her, for any- 
thing that I could say would fall so far short of the 
reality as only to mislead the reader. Let him 
think of the very loveliest that he can imagine, and 
he will still be below the truth. Having said this 
much, 1 need hardly say that I had fallen in love 
with her. 

She must have seen what I felt for her, but I 
tried my hardest not to let it appear even by the 
slightest sign. I had many reasons for this. I had 
no idea what Mr. and Mrs. Nosnibor would say to 
it ; and I knew that Arowhena would not look at 
me (at any rate not yet) if her father and mother 
disapproved, which they probably would, consider- 
ing that I had nothing except the pension of about 
a pound a day of our money which the King had 
granted me, I did not yet know of a more serious 
obstacle. 

In the meantime, I may say that I had been pre- 
sented at court, and was told that my reception had 
been considered as singularly gracious ; indeed, I 
had several interviews both with the King and 
Queen, at which from time to time the Queen got 
everything from me that I had in the world, clothes 
and all, except the two buttons I had given to 
Yram, the loss of which seemed to annoy her a 
good deal. I was presented with a court suit, and 

her Majesty had my old clothes put upon a wooden 

164 



Arowhena 

dummy, on which they probably remain, unless 
they have been removed in consequence of my 
subsequent downfall. His Majesty's manners were 
those of a cultivated English gentleman. He was 
much pleased at hearing that our government was 
monarchical, and that the mass of the people were 
resolute that it should not be changed ; indeed, I 
was so much encouraged by the evident pleasure 
with which he heard me, that I ventured to quote 
to him those beautiful lines of Shakespeare's — 

" There's a divinity doth hedge a king, 
Rough hew him how we may ; " 

but I was sorry I had done so afterwards, for I do 
not think his Majesty admired the lines as much 
as I could have wished. 

There is no occasion for me to dwell further 
upon my experience of the court, but I ought 
perhaps to allude to one of my conversations with 
the King, inasmuch as it was pregnant with the 
most important consequences. 

He had been asking me about my watch, and 

enquiring whether such dangerous inventions were 

tolerated in the country from which I came. I 

owned with some confusion that watches were not 

uncommon ; but observing the gravity which came 

over his Majesty's face I presumed to say that they 

were fast dying out, and that we had few if any 

other mechanical contrivances of which he was 

likely to disapprove. Upon his asking me to name 

some of our most advanced machines, I did not 

i6s 



Erewhon 

dare to tell him of our steam-engines and railroads 
and electric telegraphs, and was puzzling my brains 
to think what I could say, when, of all things in the 
world, balloons suggested themselves, and I gave 
him an account of a very remarkable ascent which 
was made some years ago. The King was too 
polite to contradict, but I felt sure that he did 
not believe me, and from that day forward though 
he always showed me the attention which was due 
to my genius (for in this light was my complexion 
regarded), he never questioned me about the man- 
ners and customs of my country. 

To return, however, to Arowhena. I soon 
gathered that neither Mr. nor Mrs. Nosnibor 
would have any objection to my marrying into 
the family ; a physical excellence is considered 
in Erewhon as a set off against almost any other 
disqualification, and my light hair was sufficient 
to make me an eligible match. But along with 
this welcome fact I gathered another which filled 
me with dismay : I was expected to marry Zulora, 
for whom I had already conceived a great aversion. 

At first I hardly noticed the little hints and the 
artifices which were resorted to in order to bring 
us together, but after a time they became too 
plain. Zulora, whether she was in love with me 
or not, was bent on marrying me, and I gathered 
in talking with a young gentleman of my acquaint- 
ance who frequently visited the house and whom 
I greatly disliked, that it was considered a sacred 
and inviolable rule that whoever married into a 

i66 



Arowhena 



family must marry the eldest daughter at that 
time unmarried. The young gentleman urged 
this upon me so frequently that I at last saw he 
was in love with Arowhena himself, and wanted 
me to get Zulora out of the way ; but others told 
me the same story as to the custom of the country, 
and I saw there was a serious difficulty. My only 
comfort was that Arowhena snubbed my rival and 
would not look at him. Neither would she look 
at me ; nevertheless there was a difference in the 
manner of her disregard ; this was all I could 
get from her. 

Not that she avoided me ; on the contrary I 
had many a tete-Mete with her, for her mother 
and sister were anxious for me to deposit some 
part of my pension in the Musical Banks, this 
being in accordance with the dictates of their 
goddess Ydgrun, of whom both Mrs. Nosnibor 
and Zulora were great devotees. I was not sure 
whether I had kept my secret from being per- 
ceived by Arowhena herself, but none of the 
others suspected me, so she was set upon me to 
get me to open an account, at any rate pro fornid, 
with the Musical Banks ; and I need hardly say 
that she succeeded. But I did not yield at once ; 
I enjoyed the process of being argued with too 
keenly to lose it by a prompt concession ; besides, 
a little hesitation . rendered the concession itself 
more valuable. It was in the course of conversa- 
tions on this subject that I learned the more 

defined religious opinions of the Erewhonians, 

167 



Erewhon 



that coexist with the Musical Bank system, but 
are not recognised by those curious institutions. 
I will describe them as briefly as possible in the 
following chapters before I return to the personal 
adventures of Arowhena and myself. 

They were idolaters, though of a comparatively 
enlightened kind ; but here, as in other things, 
there was a discrepancy between their professed 
and actual belief, for they had a genuine and 
potent faith which existed without recognition 
alongside of their idol worship. 

The gods whom they worship openly are personi- 
fications of human qualities, as justice, strength, 
hope, fear, love, &c., &c. The people think that 
prototypes of these have a real objective existence 
in a region far beyond the clouds, holding, as did 
the ancients, that they are like men and women 
both in body and passion, except that they are 
even comelier and more powerful, and also that 
they can render themselves invisible to human 
eyesight. They are capable of being propitiated 
by mankind and of coming to the assistance of 
those who ask their aid. Their interest in human 
affairs is keen, and on the whole beneficent ; but 
they become very angry if neglected, and punish 
rather the first they come upon, than the actual 
person who has offended them ; their fury being 
blind when it is raised, though never raised without 
reason. They will not punish with any less severity 
when people sin against them from ignorance, and 

without the chance of having had knowledge ; they 

i68 



Arowhena 



will take no excuses of this kind, but are even as 
the English law, which assumes itself to be known 
to every one. 

Thus they have a law that two pieces of matter 
may not occupy the same space at the same 
moment, which law is presided over and ad- 
ministered by the gods of time and space jointly, 
so that if a flying stone and a man's head attempt 
to outrage these gods, by " arrogating a right which 
they do not possess " (for so it is written in one 
of their books), and to occupy the same space 
simultaneously, a severe punishment, sometimes 
even death itself, is sure to follow, without any 
regard to whether the stone knew that the man's 
head was there, or the head the stone ; this at 
least is their view of the common accidents of 
life. Moreover, they hold their deities to be quite 
regardless of motives. With them it is the thing 
done which is everything, and the motive goes 
for nothing. 

Thus they hold it strictly forbidden for a man 

to go without common air in his lungs for more 

than a very few minutes; and if by any chance 

he gets into the water, the air-god is very angry, 

and will not suffer it ; no matter whether the 

man got into the water by accident or on purpose, 

whether through the attempt to save a child or 

through presumptuous contempt of the air-god, 

the air -god will kill him, unless he keeps his head 

high enough out of the water, and thus gives the 

air-god his due. 

169 



Erewhon 

This with regard to the deities who manage 
physical affairs. Over and above these they per- 
sonify hope, fear, love, and so forth, giving them 
temples and priests, and carving likenesses of them 
in stone, which they verily believe to be faithful 
representations of living beings who are only not 
human in being more than human. If any one 
denies the objective existence of these divinities, 
and says that there is really no such being as a 
beautiful woman called Justice, with her eyes 
blinded and a pair of scales, positively living 
and moving in a remote and ethereal region, but 
that justice is only the personified expression of 
certain modes of human thought and action — 
they say that he denies the existence of justice 
in denying her personality, and that he is a wanton 
disturber of men's religious convictions. They 
detest nothing so much as any attempt to lead them 
to higher spiritual conceptions of the deities whom 
they profess to worship. Arowhena and I had a 
pitched battle on this point, and should have had 
many more but for my prudence in allowing her 
to get the better of me. 

I am sure that in her heart she was suspicious 

of her own position for she returned more than 

once to the subject. " Can you not see," I had 

exclaimed, " that the fact of justice being admirable 

will not be affected by the absence of a belief in 

her being also a living agent ? Can you really 

think that men will be one whit less hopeful, 

because they no longer believe that hope is an 

170 



Arowhena 



actual person ? " She shook her head, and said 
that with men's belief in the personality all in- 
centive to the reverence of the thing itself, as 
justice or hope, would cease ; men from that hour 
would never be either just or hopeful again. 

I could not move her, nor, indeed, did I seriously 
wish to do so. She deferred to me in most things, 
but she never shrank from maintaining her opinions 
if they were put in question ; nor does she to this 
day abate one jot of her belief in the religion of 
her childhood, though in compliance with my re- 
peated entreaties she has allowed herself to be 
baptized into the English Church. She has, how- 
ever, made a gloss upon her original faith to the 
effect that her baby and I are the only human 
beings exempt from the vengeance of the deities 
for not believing in their personality. She is quite 
clear that we are exempted. She should never 
have so strong a conviction of it otherwise. How 
it has come about she does not know, neither does 
she wish to know ; there are things which it is 
better not to know and this is one of them ; but 
when I tell her that I believe in her deities as 
much as she does — and that it is a difference 
about words, not things, she becomes silent with 
a slight emphasis. 

I own that she very nearly conquered me once ; 
for she asked me what I should think if she were to 
tell me that my God, whose nature and attributes I 
had been explaining to her, was but the expression 
for man's highest conception of goodness, wisdom, 

171 



Erewhon 



and power ; that in order to generate a more vivid 
conception of so great and glorious a thought, man 
had personified it and called it by a name ; that it 
was an unworthy conception of the Deity to hold 
Him personal, inasmuch as escape from human 
contingencies became thus impossible ; that the 
real thing men should worship was the Divine, 
whereinsoever they could find it ; that " God " 
was but man's way of expressing his sense of the 
Divine ; that as justice, hope, wisdom, &c., were 
all parts of goodness, so God was the expression 
which embraced all goodness and all good power ; 
that people would no more cease to love God on 
ceasing to believe in His objective personality, than 
they had ceased to love justice on discovering that 
she was not really personal ; nay, that they would 
never truly love Him till they saw Him thus. 

She said all this in her artless way, and with 
none of the coherence with which I have here 
written it ; her face kindled, and she felt sure that 
she had convinced me that I was wrong, and that 
justice was a living person. Indeed I did wince 
a little ; but I recovered myself immediately, and 
pointed out to her that we had books whose genu- 
ineness was beyond all possibility of doubt, as they 
were certainly none of them less than 1800 years 
old ; that in these there were the most authentic 
accounts of men who had been spoken to by the 
Deity Himself, and of one prophet who had been 
allowed to see the back parts of God through the 

hand that was laid over his face. 

172 



Arowhena 



This was conclusive ; and I spoke with such 
solemnity that she was a little frightened, and 
only answered that they too had their books, in 
which their ancestors had seen the gods ; on which 
I saw that further argument was not at all likely 
to convince her ; and fearing that she might tell 
her mother what I had been saying, and that I 
might lose the hold upon her affections which I 
was beginning to feel pretty sure that I was 
obtaining, I began to let her have her own way, 
and to convince me ; neither till after we were 
safely married did I show the cloven hoof again. 

Nevertheless, her remarks have haunted me, and 
I have since met with many very godly people 
who have had a great knowledge of divinity, but 
no sense of the divine : and again, I have seen a 
radiance upon the face of those who were worship- 
ping the divine either in art or nature — in picture 
or statue — in field or cloud or sea — in man, woman, 
or child — which I have never seen kindled by any 
talking about the nature and attributes of God. 
Mention but the word divinity, and our sense of 
the divine is clouded. 



»73 



CHAPTER XVII 

YDGRUN AND THE YDGRUNITES 

In spite of all the to-do they make about theii 
idols, and the temples they build, and the priests 
and priestesses whom they support, I could never 
think that their professed religion was more than 
skin-deep ; but they had another which they carried 
with them into all their actions ; and although no 
one from the outside of things would suspect it to 
have any existence at all, it was in reality their great 
guide, the mariner's compass of their lives ; so that 
there were very few things which Ihey ever either 
did, or refrained from doing, without reference to 
its precepts. 

Now I suspected that their professed faith had 
no great hold upon them — firstly, because I often 
heard the priests complain of the prevailing in- 
difference, and they would hardly have done so 
without reason; secondly, because of the show 
which was made, for there was none of this about 
the worship of the goddess Ydgrun, in whom they 
really did believe ; thirdly, because though the 
priests were constantly abusing Ydgrun as being 
the great enemy of the gods, it was well known that 
she had no more devoted worshippers in the whole 
country than these very persons, who were often 

174 



Ydgrun and Ydgrunites 

priests of Ydgrun rather than of their own deities. 
Neither am I by any means sure that these were 
not the best of the priests. 

Ydgrun certainly occupied a very anomalous 
position ; she was held to be both omnipresent and 
omnipotent, but she was not an elevated concep- 
tion, and was sometimes both cruel and absurd. 
Even her most devoted worshippers were a little 
ashamed of her, and served her more with heart 
and in deed than with their tongues. Theirs was 
no lip service ; on the contrary, even when worship- 
ping her most devoutly, they would often deny her. 
Take her all in all, however, she was a beneficent 
and useful deity, who did not care how much she 
was denied so long as she was obeyed and feared, 
and who kept hundreds of thousands in those paths 
which make life tolerably happy, who would never 
have been kept there otherwise, and over whom a 
higher and more spiritual ideal would have had 
no power. 

I greatly doubt whether the Erewhonians are yet 
prepared for any better religion, and though (con- 
sidering my gradually strengthened conviction that 
they were the representatives of the lost tribes of 
Israel) I would have set about converting them at 
all hazards had I seen the remotest prospect of 
success, 1 could hardly contemplate the displace- 
ment of Ydgrun as the great central object of their 
regard without admitting that it would be attended 
with frightful consequences ; in fact were I a mere 
philosopher, I should say that the gradual raising 

175 



Erewhon 

of the popular conception of Ydgrun would be the 
greatest spiritual boon which could be conferred 
upon them, and that nothing could effect this ex- 
cept example. I generally found that those who 
complained most loudly that Ydgrun was not high 
enough for them had hardly as yet come up to the 
Ydgrun standard, and I often met with a class of 
men whom I called to myself "high Ydgrunites" 
(the rest being Ydgrunites, and low Ydgrunites), 
who, in the matter of human conduct and the 
affairs of life, appeared to me to have got about as 
far as it is in the right nature of man to go. 

They were gentlemen in the full sense of the 
word ; and what has one not said in saying this ? 
They seldom spoke of Ydgrun, or even alluded to 
her, but would never run counter to her dictates 
without ample reason for doing so : in such cases 
they would override her with due self-reliance, and 
the goddess seldom punished them ; for they are 
brave, and Ydgrun is not. They had most of them 
a smattering of the hypothetical language, and some 
few more than this, but only a few. I do not think 
that this language has had much hand in making 
them what they are ; but rather that the fact of 
their being generally possessed of its rudiments 
was one great reason for the reverence paid to the 
hypothetical language itself. 

Being inured from youth to exercises and ath- 
letics of all sorts, and living fearlessly under the 
eye of their peers, among whom there exists a high 

standard of courage, generosity, honour, and every 

176 



Ydgrun and Ydgrunites 

good and manly quality — what wonder that they 
should have become, so to speak, a law unto them- 
selves ; and, while taking an elevated view of the 
goddess Ydgrun, they should have gradually lost 
all faith in the recognised deities of the country ? 
These they do not openly disregard, for conformity 
until absolutely intolerable is a law of Ydgrun, yet 
they have no real belief in the objective existence 
of beings which so readily explain themselves as ab- 
stractions, and whose personality demands a quasi- 
materialism which it baffles the imagination to 
realise. They keep their opinions, however, greatly 
to themselves, inasmuch as most of their country- 
men feel strongly about the gods, and they hold it 
wrong to give pain, unless for some greater good 
than seems likely to arise from their plain speaking. 
On the other hand, surely those whose own 
minds are clear about any given matter (even 
though it be only that there is little certainty) 
should go so far towards imparting that clearness 
to others, as to say openly what they think and 
why they think it, whenever they can properly do 
so ; for they may be sure that they owe their own 
clearness almost entirely to the fact that others 
have done this by them : after all, they may be 
mistaken, and if so, it is for their own and the 
general well-being that they should let their error 
be seen as distinctly as possible, so that it may 
be more easily refuted. I own, therefore, that on 
this one point I disapproved of the practice even of 
the highest Ydgrunites, and objected to it all the 

177 M 



Erewhon 



more because I knew that I should find my own 
future task more easy if the high Ydgrunites had 
already undermined the behef which is supposed 
to prevail at present. 

In other respects they were more like the best 
class of Englishmen than any whom I have seen 
in other countries. I should have liked to have 
persuaded half-a-dozen of them to come over to 
England and go upon the stage, for they had most 
of them a keen sense of humour and a taste for 
acting : they would be of great use to us. The 
example of a real gentleman is, if I may say so 
without profanity, the best of all gospels ; such a 
man upon the stage becomes a potent humanising 
influence, an Ideal which all may look upon for 
a shilling. 

I always liked and admired these men, and al- 
though I could not help deeply regretting their 
certain ultimate perdition (for they had no sense of 
a hereafter, and their only religion was that of self- 
respect and consideration for other people), I never 
dared to take so great a liberty with them as to 
attempt to put them in possession of my own 
religious convictions, in spite of my knowing that 
they were the only ones which could make them 
really good and happy, either here or hereafter. I 
did try sometimes, being impelled to do so by a 
strong sense of duty, and by my deep regret that 
so much that was admirable should be doomed 
to ages if not eternity of torture ; but the words 

stuck in my throat as soon as I began. 

178 



/ 



Ydgrun and Ydgrunites 

Whether a professional missionary might have 
a better chance I know not ; such persons must 
doubtless know more about the science of conver- 
sion : for myself, I could only be thankful that I 
was in the right path, and was obliged to let others 
take their chance as yet. If the plan fails by 
which I propose to convert them myself, I would 
gladly contribute my mite towards the sending two 
or three trained missionaries, who have been 
known as successful converters of Jews and Ma- 
hometans ; but such have seldom much to glory 
in the flesh, and when I think of the high Ydgrun- 
ites, and of the figure which a missionary would 
probably cut among them, I cannot feel sanguine 
that much good would be arrived at. Still the 
attempt is worth making, and the worst danger to 
the missionaries themselves would be that of 
being sent to the hospital where Chowbok would 
have been sent had he come with me into 
Erewhon. 

Taking then their religious opinions as a whole, I 
must own that the Erewhonians are superstitious, 
on. account of the views which they hold of their 
professed gods, and their entirely anomalous and 
inexplicable worship of Ydgrun, a worship at once 
the most powerful, yet most devoid of formalism, 
that I ever met with ; but in practice things worked 
better than might have been expected, and the 
conflicting claims of Ydgrun and the gods were 
arranged by unwritten compromises (for the most 

part in Ydgrun's favour), which in ninety-nine 

179 



Erewhon 



cases out of a hundred were very well under- 
stood. 

I could not conceive why they should not openly 
acknowledge high Ydgrunism, and discard the 
objective personality of hope, justice, &c. ; but 
whenever I so much as hinted at this, I found that 
I was on dangerous ground. They would never 
have it ; returning constantly to the assertion that 
ages ago the divinities were frequently seen, and 
that the moment their personality was disbelieved in, 
men would leave off practising even those ordinary 
virtues which the common experience of mankind 
has agreed on as being the greatest secret of happi- 
ness. " Who ever heard," they asked, indignantly, 
" of such things as kindly training, a good example, 
and an enlightened regard to one's own welfare, 
being able to keep men straight ? " In my hurry, 
forgetting things which I ought to have remem- 
bered, I answered that if a person could not be 
kept straight by these things, there was nothing 
that could straighten him, and that if he were not 
ruled by the love and fear of men whom he had 
seen, neither would he be so by that of the gods 
whom he had not seen. 

At one time indeed I came upon a small but 
growing sect who believed, after a fashion, in the 
immortality of the soul and the resurrection from 
the dead ; they taught that those who had been 
born with feeble and diseased bodies and had 
passed their lives in ailing, would be tortured eter- 
nally hereafter ; but that those who had been 

i8o 



Ydgrun and Ydgrunites 

born strong and healthy and handsome would be 
rewarded for ever and ever. Of moral qualities or 
conduct they made no mention. 

Bad as this was, it was a step in advance, inas- 
much as they did hold out a future state of some 
sort, and I was shocked to find that for the most 
part they met with opposition, on the score that 
their doctrine was based upon no sort of founda- 
tion, also that it was immoral in its tendency, and 
not to be desired by any reasonable beings. 

When I asked how it could be immoral, I was 
answered, that if firmly held, it would lead people 
to cheapen this present life, making it appear to be 
an affair of only secondary importance ; that it 
would thus distract men's minds from the perfect- 
ing of this world's economy, and was an impatient 
cutting, so to speak, of the Gordian knot of life's 
problems, whereby some people might gain pre- 
sent satisfaction to themselves at the cost of infinite 
damage to others ; that the doctrine tended to 
encourage the poor in their improvidence, and in 
a debasing acquiescence in ills which they might 
well remedy ; that the rewards were illusory and 
the result, after all, of luck, whose empire should 
be bounded by the grave ; that its terrors were 
enervating and unjust ; and that even the most 
blessed rising would be but the disturbing of a still 
more blessed slumber. 

To all which I could only say that the thing had 

been actually known to happen, and that there 

were several well-authenticated instances of people 

j8i 



Erewhon 



having died and come to life again — instances 
which no man in his senses could doubt. 

" If this be so," said my opponent, " we must 
bear it as best we may." 

I then translated for him, as well as I could, the 
noble speech of Hamlet in which he says that it is 
the fear lest worse evils may befall us after death 
which alone prevents us from rushing into death's 
arms. 

" Nonsense," he answered, " no man was ever yet 
stopped from cutting his throat by any such fears 
as your poet ascribes to him — and your poet 
probably knew this perfectly well. If a man cuts 
his throat he is at bay, and thinks of nothing but 
escape, no matter whither, provided he can shuffle 
off his present. No. Men are kept at their posts, 
not by the fear that if they quit them they may quit 
a frying-pan for a fire, but by the hope that if they 
hold on, the fire may burn less fiercely. 'The 
respect,' to quote your poet, * that makes calamity 
ot so long a life,' is the consideration that though 
calamity may live long, the sufferer may live longer 
still." 

On this, seeing that there was little probability 
of our coming to an agreement, I let the argument 
drop, and my opponent presently left me with as 
much disapprobation as he could show without 
being overtly rude. 



i&i 



CHAPTER XVIII 

BIRTH FORMULA 

I HEARD what follows not from Arowhena, but 
from Mr. Nosnibor and some of the gentlemen who 
occasionally dined at the house : they told me that 
the Erewhonians believe in pre-existence ; and not 
only this (of which I will write more fully in the 
next chapter), but they believe that it is of their own 
free act and deed in a previous state that they 
come to be born into this world at all. They hold 
that the unborn are perpetually plaguing and tor- 
menting the married of both sexes, fluttering about 
them incessantly, and giving them no peace either 
of mind or body until they have consented to take 
them under their protection. If this were not so 
(this at least is what they urge), it would be a 
monstrous freedom for one man to take with 
another, to say that he should undergo the chances 
and changes of this mortal life without any option 
in the matter. No man would have any right to 
get married at all, inasmuch as he can never tell what 
frightful misery his doing so may entail forcibly 
upon a being who cannot be unhappy as long as 
he does not exist. They feel this so strongly that 
they are resolved to shift the blame on to other 
shoulders ; and have fashioned a long mythology 

1^3 



Erewhon 



as to the world in which the unborn people live, 
and what they do, and the arts and machinations to 
which they have recourse in order to get themselves 
into our own world. But of this more anon : what 
I would relate here is their manner of dealing with 
those who do come. 

It is a distinguishing peculiarity of the Erewhon- 
ians that when they profess themselves to be quite 
certain about any matter, and avow it as a base on 
which they are to build a system of practice, they 
seldom quite believe in it. If they smell a rat 
about the precincts of a cherished institution, they 
will always stop their noses to it if they can. 

This is what most of them did in this matter of 
the unborn, for I cannot (and never could) think 
that they seriously believed in their mythology con- 
cerning pre-existence : they did and they did not ; 
they did not know themselves what they believed ; 
all they did know was that it was a disease not to 
believe as they did. The only thing of which they 
were quite sure was that it was the pestering of the 
unborn which caused them to be brought into this 
world, and that they would not have been here if 
they would have only let peaceable people alone. 

It would be hard to disprove this position, and 

they might have a good case if they would only 

leave it as it stands. But this they will not do ; 

they must have assurance doubly sure ; they must 

have the written word of the child itself as soon as 

it is born, giving the parents indemnity from all 

responsibility on the score of its birth, and asserting 

184 



Birth Formulae 



its own pre-existence. They have therefore devised 
something which they call a birth formula — a 
document which varies in words according to the 
caution of parents, but is much the same practically 
in all cases ; for it has been the business of the 
Erewhonian lawyers during many ages to exercise 
their skill in perfecting it and providing for every 
contingency. 

These formulae are printed on common paper at 
a moderate cost for the poor ; but the rich have 
them written on parchment and handsomely bound, 
so that the getting up of a person's birth formula is 
a test of his social position. They commence by 
setting forth, That whereas A. B. was a member of 
the kingdom of the unborn, where he was well 
provided for in every way, and had no cause of 
discontent, &c,, &c., he did of his own wanton 
depravity and restlessness conceive a desire to 
enter into this present world ; that thereon having 
taken the necessary steps as set forth in laws of the 
unborn kingdom, he did with malice aforethought 
set himself to plague and pester two unfortunate 
people who had never wronged him, and who were 
quite contented and happy until he conceived this 
base design against their peace ; for which wrong 
he now humbly entreats their pardon. 

He acknowledges that he is responsible for all 

physical blemishes and deficiencies which may 

render him answerable to the laws of his country ; 

that his parents have nothing whatever to do with 

any of these things ; and that they have a right to 

185 



Erewhon 

kill him at once if they be so minded, though he 
entreats them to show their marvellous goodness 
and clemency by sparing his Hfe. If they will do 
this, he promises to be their most obedient and 
abject creature during his earlier years, and indeed 
all his hfe, unless they should see fit in their 
abundant generosity to remit some portion of his 
service hereafter. And so the formula continues, 
going sometimes into very minute details, according 
to the fancies of family lawyers, who will not make 
it any shorter than they can help. 

The deed being thus prepared, on the third or 
fourth day after the birth of the child, or as they 
call it, the "final importunity," the friends gather 
together, and there is a feast held, where they are 
all very melancholy — as a general rule, I believe, 
quite truly so — and make presents to the father and 
mother of the child in order to console them for 
the injury which has just been done them by the 
unborn. 

By-and-by the child himself is brought down by 
his nurse, and the company begin to rail upon him, 
upbraiding him for his impertinence, and asking 
him what amends he proposes to make for the 
wrong that he has committed, and how he can 
look for care and nourishment from those who have 
perhaps already been injured by the unborn on 
some ten or twelve occasions ; for they say of 
people with large families, that they have suffered 
terrible injuries from the unborn ; till at last, when 
this has been carried far enough, some one suggests 

1 86 



Birth Formulae 



the formula, which is brought out and solemnly 
read to the child by the family straightener. This 
gentleman is always invited on these occasions, for 
the very fact of intrusion into a peaceful family 
shows a depravity on the part of the child which 
requires his professional services. 

On being teased by the reading and tweaked by 
the nurse, the child will commonly begin to cry, 
which is reckoned a good sign, as showing a 
consciousness of guilt. He is thereon asked. Does 
he assent to the formula ? on which, as he still 
continues crying and can obviously make no 
answer, some one of the friends comes forward 
and undertakes to sign the document on his behalf, 
feeling sure (so he says) that the child would do it 
if he only knew how, and that he will release 
the present signer from his engagement on arriving 
at maturity. The friend then inscribes the signa- 
ture of the child at the foot of the parchment, 
which is held to bind the child as much as though 
he had signed it himself. 

Even this, however, does not fully content them, 
for they feel a little uneasy until they have got the 
child's own signature after all. So when he is about 
fourteen, these good people partly bribe him by 
promises of greater liberty and good things, and 
partly intimidate him through their great power 
of making themselves actively unpleasant to him, 
so that though there is a show of freedom made, 
there is really none ; they also use the offices of 
the teachers in the Colleges of Unreason, till 



Erewhon 



at last, in one way or another, they take very good 

care that he shall sign the paper by which he 

professes to have been a free agent in coming 

into the world, and to take all the responsibility 

of having done so on to his own shoulders. And 

yet, though this document is obviously the most 

important which any one can sign in his whole 

life, they will have him do so at an age when 

neither they nor the law will for many a year 

allow any one else to bind him to the smallest 

obligation, no matter how righteously he may owe 

it, because they hold him too young to know what 

he is about, and do not consider it fair that he 

should commit himself to anything that may 

prejudice him in after years. 

I own that all this seemed rather hard, and not 

of a piece with the many admirable institutions 

existing among them. I once ventured to say a 

part of what I thought about it to one of the 

Professors of Unreason. I did it very tenderly, 

but his justification of the system was quite out 

of my comprehension. I remember asking him 

whether he did not think it would do harm to a 

lad's principles, by weakening his sense of the 

sanctity of his word and of truth generally, that 

he should be led into entering upon a solemn 

declaration as to the truth of things about which 

all that he can certainly know is that he knows 

nothing — whether, in fact, the teachers who so 

led him, or who taught anything as a certainty 

of which they were themselves uncertain, were 

i88 



Birth Formulae 



not earning their living by impairing the truth- 
sense of their pupils (a dehcate organisation mostly), 
and by vitiating one of their most sacred instincts. 

The Professor, who was a delightful person, 
seemed greatly surprised at the view which I 
took, but it had no influence with him whatso- 
ever. No one, he answered, expected that the 
boy either would or could know all that he said 
he knew ; but the world was full of compromises ; 
and there was hardly any affirmation which would 
bear being interpreted literally. Human language 
was too gross a vehicle of thought — thought being 
incapable of absolute translation. He added, that 
as there can be no translation from one language 
into another which shall not scant the meaning 
somewhat, or enlarge upon it, so there is no 
language which can render thought without a 
jarring and a harshness somewhere — and so forth ; 
all of which seemed to come to this in the end, that 
it was the custom of the country, and that the 
Erewhonians were a conservative people ; that the 
boy would have to begin compromising sooner 
or later, and this was part of his education in the 
art. It was perhaps to be regretted that com- 
promise should be as necessary as it was ; still 
it was necessary, and the sooner the boy got to 
understand it the better for himself. But they 
never tell this to the boy. 

From the book of their mythology about the 

unborn I made the extracts which will form the 

following chapter. 

189 



CHAPTER XIX 

THE WORLD OF THE UNBORN 

The Erewhonians say that we are drawn through 

life backwards ; or again, that we go onwards into 

the future as into a dark corridor. Time walks 

beside us and flings back shutters as we advance ; 

but the light thus given often dazzles us, and 

deepens the darkness which is in front. We can 

see but little at a time, and heed that little far 

less than our apprehension of what we shall see 

next ; ever peering curiously through the glare 

of the present into the gloom of the future, we 

presage the leading lines of that which is before 

us, by faintly reflected lights from dull mirrors 

that are behind, and stumble on as we may till 

the trap-door opens beneath us and we are gone. 

They say at other times that the future and 

the past are as a panorama upon two rollers ; 

that which is on the roller of the future unwraps 

itself on to the roller of the past ; we cannot hasten 

it, and we may not stay it ; we must see all that is 

unfolded to us whether it be good or ill ; and what 

we have seen once we may see again no more. It 

is ever unwinding and being wound ; we catch it 

in transition for a moment, and call it present ; our 

flustered senses gather what impression they can, 

190 



World of the Unborn 

and we guess at what is coming by the tenor of 
that which we have seen. The same hand has 
painted the whole picture, and the incidents vary 
httle — rivers, woods, plains, mountains, towns and 
peoples, love, sorrow, and death : yet the interest 
never flags, and we look hopefully for some good 
fortune, or fearfully lest our own faces be shown 
us as figuring in something terrible. When the 
scene is past we think we know it, though there 
is so much to see, and so little time to see it, that 
our conceit of knowledge as regards the past is for 
the most part poorly founded ; neither do we care 
about it greatly, save in so far as it may affect the 
future, wherein our interest mainly lies. 

The Erewhonians say it was by chance only that 
the earth and stars and all the heavenly worlds 
began to roll from east to west, and not from west 
to east, and in like manner they say it is by chance 
that man is drawn through life with his face to the 
past instead of to the future. For the future is 
there as much as the past, only that we may not 
see it. Is it not in the loins of the past, and must 
not the past alter before the future can do so ? 

Sometimes, again, they say that there was a race 
of men tried upon the earth once, who knew the 
future better than the past, but that they died in a 
twelvemonth from the misery which their know- 
ledge caused them ; and if any were to be born too 
prescient now, he would be culled out by natural 
selection, before he had time to transmit so peace- 
destroying a faculty to his descendants. 

191 



Erewhon 



strange fate for man ! He must perish if he get 
that, which he must perish if he strive not after. 
If he strive not after it he is no better than the 
brutes, if he get it he is more miserable than the 
devils. 

Having waded through many chapters like the 
above, I came at last to the unborn themselves, and 
found that they were held to be souls pure and 
simple, having no actual bodies, but living in a sort 
of gaseous yet more or less anthropomorphic exis- 
tence, like that of a ghost ; they have thus neither 
flesh nor blood nor warmth. Nevertheless they 
are supposed to have local habitations and cities 
wherein they dwell, though these are as unsub- 
stantial as their inhabitants ; they are even thought 
to eat and drink some thin ambrosial sustenance, 
and generally to be capable of doing whatever man* 
kind can do, only after a visionary ghostly fashion 
as in a dream. On the other hand, as long as they 
remain where they are they never die — the only 
form of death in the unborn world being the 
leaving it for our own. They are believed to be 
extremely numerous, far more so than mankind. 
They arrive from unknown planets, full grown, in 
large batches at a time ; but they can only leave 
the unborn world by taking the steps necessary 
for their arrival here — which is, in fact, by suicide. 

They ought to be an exceedingly happy people, 

for they have no extremes of good or ill fortune ; 

never marrying, but living in a state much like that 

fabled by the poets as the primitive condition of 

192 



World of the Unborn 

mankind. In spite of this, however, they are in- 
cessantly complaining ; they know that we in this 
world have bodies, and indeed they know every- 
thing else about us, for they move among us 
whithersoever they will, and can read our thoughts, 
as well as survey our actions at pleasure. One 
would think that this should be enough for them ; 
and most of them are indeed alive to the desperate 
risk which they will run by indulging themselves 
in that body with " sensible warm motion " which 
they so much desire ; nevertheless, there are some 
to whom the ennui of a disembodied existence is so 
intolerable that they will venture anything for a 
change ; so they resolve to quit. The conditions 
which they must accept are so uncertain, that none 
but the most foolish of the unborn will consent to 
them ; and it is from these, and these only, that 
our own ranks are recruited. 

When they have finally made up their minds to 
leave, they must go before the magistrate of the 
nearest town, and sign an affidavit of their desire 
to quit their then existence. On their having done 
this, the magistrate reads them the conditions which 
they must accept, and which are so long that I can 
only extract some of the principal points, which are 
mainly the following : — 

First, they must take a potion which will destroy 
their memory and sense of identity ; they must go 
into the world helpless, and without a will of their 
own ,• they must draw lots for their dispositions 
before they go, and take them, such as they are, 



Erewhon 



for better or worse — neither are they to be allowed 
any choice in the matter of the body which they so 
much desire ; they are simply allotted by chance, 
and without appeal, to two people whom it is their 
business to find and pester until they adopt them. 
Who these are to be, whether rich or poor, kind or 
unkind, healthy or diseased, there is no knowing ; 
they have, in fact, to entrust themselves for many 
years to the care of those for whose good constitu- 
tion and good sense they have no sort of guarantee. 

It is curious to read the lectures which the wiser 
heads give to those who are meditating a change. 
They talk with them as we talk with a spendthrift, 
and with about as much success. 

"To be born," they say, "is a felony — it is a 
capital crime, for which sentence may be executed 
at any moment after the commission of the offence. 
You may perhaps happen to live for some seventy 
ui eighty years, but what is that, compared with 
the eternity you now enjoy ? And even though 
the sentence were commuted, and you were 
allowed to live on for ever, you would in time 
become so terribly weary of life that execution 
would be the greatest mercy to you. 

" Consider the infinite risk ; to be born of wicked 
parents and trained in vice ! to be born of silly 
parents, and trained to unrealities ! of parents who 
regard you as a sort of chattel or property, belong- 
ing more to them than to yourself ! Again, you 
may draw utterly unsympathetic parents, who will 
never be able to understand you, and who will do 

194 



World of the Unborn 

their best to thwart you (as a hen when she has 
hatched a duckling), and then call you ungrateful 
because you do not love them ; or, again, you may 
Jraw parents who look upon you as a thing to be 
cowed while it is still young, lest it should give 
them trouble hereafter by having wishes and feel- 
ings of its own. 

" In later life, when you have been finally al- 
lowed to pass muster as a full member of the 
world, you will yourself become liable to the pes- 
terings of the unborn — and a very happy life you 
may be led in consequence ! For we solicit so 
strongly that a few only — nor these the best — can 
refuse us ; and yet not to refuse is much the same, 
as going into partnership with half-a-dozen differ- 
ent people about whom one can know absolutely 
nothing beforehand — not even whether one is 
going into partnership with men or women, nor 
with how many of either. Delude not yourself 
with thinking that you will be wiser than your 
parents. You may be an age in advance of those 
whom you have pestered, but unless you are one 
of the great ones you will still be an age behind 
those who will in their turn pester you. 

" Imagine what it must be to have an unborn 
quartered upon you, who is of an entirely different 
temperament and disposition to your own ; nay, 
half-a-dozen such, who will not love you though 
you have stinted yourself in a thousand ways to 
provide for their comfort and well-being, — who 
will forget all your self-sacrifice, and of whom you 

I9S 



Erewhon 

may never be sure that they are not bearing a 
grudge against you for errors of judgement into 
which you may have fallen, though you had hoped 
that such had been long since atoned for. Ingrati- 
tude such as this is not uncommon, yet fancy what 
it must be to bear! It is hard upon the duckling 
to have been hatched by a hen, but is it not also 
hard upon the hen to have hatched the duckling ? 

" Consider it again, we pray you, not for our sake 
but for your own. Your initial character you must 
draw by lot ; but whatever it is, it can only come 
to a tolerably successful development after long 
training ; remember that over that training you 
will have no control. It is possible, and even 
probable, that whatever you may get in after life 
which is of real pleasure and service to you, will 
have to be won in spite of, rather than by the help 
of, those whom you are now about to pester, and 
that you will only win your freedom after years 
of a painful struggle in which it will be hard to 
say whether you have suffered most injury, or 
inflicted it. 

" Remember also, that if you go into the world 

you will have free will ; that you will be obliged to 

have it ; that there is no escaping it ; that you will 

be fettered to it during your whole life, and must 

on every occasion do that which on the whole 

seems best to you at any given time, no matter 

whether you are right or wrong in choosing it. 

Your mind will be a balance for considerations, 

and your action will go with the heavier scale. 

196 



World of the Unborn 

How it shall fall will depend upon the kind of 

scales which you may have drawn at birth, the 

bias which they will have obtained by use, and 

the weight of the immediate considerations. If the 

scales were good to start with, and if they have 

not been outrageously tampered with in childhood, 

and if the combinations into which you enter are 

average ones, you may come off well ; but there 

are too many * ifs ' in this, and with the failure of 

any one of them your misery is assured. Reflect 

on this, and remember that should the ill come 

upon you, you will have yourself to thank, for it 

is your own choice to be born, and there is no 

compulsion in the matter. 

" Not that we deny the existence of pleasures 

among mankind ; there is a certain show of sundry 

phases of contentment which may even amount to 

very considerable happiness ; but mark how they 

are distributed over a man's life, belonging, all the 

keenest of them, to the fore part, and few indeed 

to the after. Can there be any pleasure w'orth 

purchasing with the miseries of a decrepit age ? 

If you are good, strong, and handsome, you have a 

fine fortune indeed at twenty, but how much of it 

will be left at sixty ? For you must live on your 

capital ; there is no investing your powers so that 

you may get a small annuity of life for ever : you 

must eat up your principal bit by bit, and be 

tortured by seeing it grow continually smaller and 

smaller, even though you happen to escape being 

rudely robbed of it by crime or casualty. 

197 



Erewhon 



" Remember, too, that there never yet was a 
man of forty who would not come back into the 
world of the unborn if he could do so with decency 
and honour. Being in the world he will as a 
general rule stay till he is forced to go ; but do you 
think that he would consent to be born again, and 
re-live his life, if he had the offer of doing so ? Do 
not think it. If he could so alter the past as that 
he should never have come into being at all, do 
you not think that he would do it very gladly ? 

" What was it that one of their own poets meant, 
if it was not this, when he cried out upon the day 
in which he was born, and the night in which it was 
said there is a man child conceived ? ' For now,' he 
says, ' I should have lain still and been quiet, I 
should have slept ; then had I been at rest with 
kings and counsellors of the earth, which built 
desolate places for themselves; or with princes 
that had gold, who filled their houses with silver ; 
or as an hidden untimely birth, I had not been ; as 
infants which never saw light. There the wicked 
cease from troubling, and the weary are at rest.' 
Be very sure that the guilt of being born carries 
this punishment at times to all men ; but how can 
they ask for pity, or complain of any mischief that 
may befall them, having entered open-eyed into 
the snare ? 

"One word more and we have done. If any 

faint remembrance, as of a dream, flit in some 

puzzled moment across your brain, and you shall 

feel that the potion which is to be given you shall 

198 



World of the Unborn 

not have done its work, and the memory of this 
existence which you are leaving endeavours vainly 
to return ; we say in such a moment, when you 
clutch at the dream but it eludes your grasp, 
and you watch it, as Orpheus watched Eurydice, 
gliding back again into the twilight kingdom, fly — 
fly — if you can remember the advice — to the haven 
of your present and immediate duty, taking shelter 
incessantly in the work which you have in hand. 
This much you may perhaps recall ; and this, if 
you will imprint it deeply upon your every faculty, 
will be most likely to bring you safely and honour- 
ably home through the trials that are before you."^ 
This is the fashion in which they reason with 
those who would be for leaving them, but it is 
seldom that they do much good, for none but the 
unquiet and unreasonable ever think of being 
born, and those who are foolish enough to think 
of it are generally foolish enough to do it. Find- 
ing, therefore, that they can do no more, the friends 
follow weeping to the courthouse of the chief 
magistrate, where the one who wishes to be born 
declares solemnly and openly that he accepts the 
conditions attached to his decision. On this he 
is presented with a potion, which immediately 
destroys his memory and sense of identity, and 
dissipates the thin gaseous tenement which he has 
inhabited : he becomes a bare vital principle, not to 

* The myth above alluded to exists in Erewhon with chanfjed 
names, and considerable modifications. I have taken the liberty of 
referring to the story as familiar to ourselves. 

199 



Erewhon 



be perceived by human senses, nor to be by any 
chemical test appreciated. He has but one instinct, 
which is that he is to go to such and such a place, 
where he will find two persons whom he is to 
importune till they consent to undertake him ; but 
whether he is to find these persons among the race 
of Chowbok or the Erewhonians themselves is not 
for him to choose. 



KA 



CHAPTER XX 

WHAT THEY MEAN BY IT 

1 HAVE given the above mythology at some length, 
but it is only a small part of what they have upon 
the subject. My first feeling on reading it was that 
any amount of folly on the part of the unborn in 
coming here was justified by a desire to escape 
from such intolerable prosing. The mythology is 
obviously an unfair and exaggerated representation 
of life and things ; and had its authors been so 
minded they could have easily drawn a picture 
which would err as much on the bright side as 
this does on the dark. No Erewhonian believes 
that the world is as black as it has been here 
painted, but it is one of their pecuharities that 
they very often do not believe or mean things 
which they profess to regard as indisputable. 

In the present instance their professed views 
concerning the unborn have arisen from their 
desire to prove that people have been presented 
with the gloomiest possible picture of their own 
prospects before they came here ; otherwise, they 
could hardly say to one whom they are going to 
punish for an affection of the heart or brain that 
it is all his own doing. In practice they modify 
their theory to a considerable extent, and seldom 



Erewhon 



refer to the birth formula except in extreme cases ; 
for the force of habit, or what not, gives many of 
them a kindly interest even in creatures who have 
so much wronged them as the unborn have done ; 
and though a man generally hates the unwelcome 
little stranger for the first twelve months, he is apt 
to mollify (according to his lights) as time goes 
on, and sometimes he will become inordinately 
attached to the beings whom he is pleased to call 
his children. 

Of course, according to Erewhonian premises, it 
would serve people right to be punished and scouted 
for moral and intellectual diseases as much as for 
physical, and I cannot to this day understand why 
they should have stopped short half way. Neither, 
again, can I understand why their having done so 
should have been, as it certainly was, a matter of so 
much concern to myself. What could it matter 
to me how many absurdities the Erewhonians 
might adopt? Nevertheless I longed to make 
them think as I did, for the wish to spread those 
opinions that we hold conducive to our own 
welfare is so deeply rooted in the English character 
that few of us can escape its influence. But let 
this pass. 

In spite of not a few modifications in practice 
of a theory which is itself revolting, the relations 
between children and parents in that country are 
less happy than in Europe. It was rarely that I 
saw cases of real hearty and intense affection 
between the old people and the young ones. Here 



What they Mean 

and there I did so, and was quite sure that the 

children, even at the age of twenty, were fonder 

of their parents than they were of any one else ; 

and that of their own inclination, being free to 

choose what company they would, they would 

often choose that of their father and mother. The 

straightener's carriage was rarely seen at the door 

of those houses. I saw two or three such cases 

during the time that I remained in the country, and 

cannot express the pleasure which I derived from 

a sight .uggestive of so much goodness and wisdom 

and forbearance, so richly rewarded ; yet I firmly 

believe that the same thing would happen in nine 

families out of ten if the parents were merely to 

remember how they felt when they were young, 

and actually to behave towards their children as 

they would have had their own parents behave 

towards themselves. But this, which would appear 

to be so simple and obvious, seems also to be a 

thing which not one in a hundred thousand is able 

to put in practice. It is only the very great and 

good who have any living faith in the simplest 

axioms ; and there are few who are so holy as to 

feel that 19 and 13 make 32 as certainly as 2 and 2 

make 4. 

I am quite sure that if this narrative should ever 

fall into Erewhonian hands, it will be said that 

what I have written about the relations betweer? 

parents and children being seldom satisfactory is 

an infamous perversion of facts, and that in truth 

there are few young people who do not feel happier 

203 



Erewhon 



in the society of their nearest relations ^ than in any 
other. Mr. Nosnibor would be sure to say this. 
Yet I cannot refrain from expressing an opinion 
that he would be a good deal embarrassed if his 
deceased parents were to reappear and propose to 
pay him a six months' visit. I doubt whether there 
are many things which he would regard as a greater 
infliction. They had died at a ripe old age some 
twenty years before I came to know him, so the 
case is an extreme one ; but surely if they had 
treated him with what in his youth he had felt to 
be true unselfishness, his face would brighten when 
he thought of them to the end of his Hfe. 

In the one or two cases of true family affection 
which I met with, I am sure that the young people 
who were so genuinely fond of their fathers and 
mothers at eighteen, would at sixty be perfectly 
delighted were they to get the chance of welcoming 
them as their guests. There is nothing which could 
please them better, except perhaps to watch the 
happiness of their own children and grandchildren. 

This is how things should be. It is not an 
impossible ideal ; it is one which actually does exist 
in some few cases, and might exist in almost all, 
with a little more patience and forbearance upon 
the parents' part ; but it is rare at present — so rare 
that they have a proverb which I can only translate 
in a very roundabout way, but which says that 
the great happiness of some people in a future 

' V^hat a safe word " relation " is ; how little it predicates ! yet it ha» 
overgrown " kinsman." 

204 



What they Mean 

state will consist in watching the distress of their 
parents on returning to eternal companionship with 
their grandfathers and grandmothers ; whilst " com- 
pulsory affection " is the idea which lies at the root 
of their word for the deepest anguish. 

There is no talisman in the word " parent " which 
can generate miracles of affection, and I can well 
believe that my own child might find it less of a 
calamity to lose both Arowhena and myself when 
he is six years old, than to find us again when he is 
sixty — a sentence which I would not pen did I not 
feel that by doing so I was giving him something 
like a hostage, or at any rate putting a weapon into 
his hands against me, should my selfishness exceed 
reasonable limits. 

Money is at the bottom of all this to a great 
extent. If the parents would put their children in 
the way of earning a competence earlier than they 
do, the children would soon become self-support- 
ing and independent. As it is, under the present 
system, the young ones get old enough to have 
all manner of legitimate wants (that is, if they have 
any " go " about them) before they have learnt the 
means of earning money to pay for them ; hence 
they must either do without them, or take more 
money than the parents can be expected to spare. 
This is due chiefly to the schools of Unreason, 
where a boy is taught upon hypothetical principles, 
as I will explain hereafter ; spending years in being 
incapacitated for doing this, that, or the other (he 

hardly knows what), during all which time he 

205 



Erewhon ! 

ought to have been actually doing the thing itself, 
beginning at the lowest grades, picking it up 
through actual practice, and rising according to 
the energy which is in him. 

These schools of Unreason surprised me much. 
It would be easy to fall into pseudo-utilitarianism, 
and I would fain believe that the system may be 
good for the children of very rich parents, or for 
those who show a natural instinct to acquire hypo- 
thetical lore ; but the misery was that their Ydgrun- 
worship required all people with any pretence to 
respectability to send their children to some one or 
other of these schools, mulcting them of years of 
money. It astonished me to see what sacrifices the 
parents would make in order to render their chil- 
dren as nearly useless as possible ; and it was hard to 
say whether the old suffered most from the expense 
which they were thus put to, or the young from 
being deliberately swindled in some of the most 
important branches of human inquiry, and directed 
into false channels or left to drift in the great 
majority of cases. 

I cannot think I am mistaken in believing that 
the growing tendency to limit families by infanticide 
— an evil which was causing general alarm through- 
out the country — was almost entirely due to the 
way in which education had become a fetish from 
one end of Erewhon to the other. Granted that 
provision should be made whereby every child 
should be taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, 

but here compulsory state-aided education should 

206 



What they Mean 

end, and the child should begin (with all due pre- 
cautions to ensure that he is not overworked) to 
acquire the rudiments of that art whereby he is to 
earn his living. 

He cannot acquire these in what we in England 
call schools of technical education ; such schools 
are cloister life as against the rough and tumble of 
the world ; they unfit, rather than fit for work in 
the open. An art can only be learned in the work- 
shop of those who are winning their bread by it. 

Boys, as a rule, hate the artificial, and delight in 
the actual ; give them the chance of earning, and 
they will soon earn. When parents find that their 
children, instead of being made artificially burden- 
some, will early begin to contribute to the well-being 
of the family, they will soon leave off killing them, 
and will seek to have that plenitude of offspring 
which they now avoid. As things are, the state 
lays greater burdens on parents than flesh and 
blood can bear, and then wrings its hands over an 
evil for which it is itself mainly responsible. 

With the less well-dressed classes the harm was 
not so great ; for among these, at about ten years 
old, the child has to begin doing something : if he 
is capable he makes his way up ; if he is not, he is 
at any rate not made more incapable by what his 
friends are pleased to call his education. People 
find their level as a rule ; and though they unfor- 
tunately sometimes miss it, it is in the main true 
that those who have valuable qualities are perceived 

to have them and can sell them. I think that the 

207 



Erewhon 

Erewhonians are beginning to become aware oi 
these things, for there was much talk about puttin| 
a tax upon all parents whose children were noti 
earning a competence according to their degrees 
by the time they were twenty years old. I am sure 
that if they will have the courage to carry it through 
they will never regret it ; for the parents will take 
care that the children shall begin earning money 
(which means " doing good " to society) at an early 
age ; then the children will be independent early, 
and they will not press on the parents, nor the 
parents on them, and they will like each other 
better than they do now. 

This is the true philanthropy. He who makes a 
colossal fortune in the hosiery trade, and by his 
energy has succeeded in reducing the price of 
woollen goods by the thousandth part of a penny 
in the pound — this man is worth ten professional 
philanthropists. So strongly are the Erewhonians 
impressed with this, that if a man has made a for- 
tune of over ;^20,ooo a year they exempt him from 
all taxation, considering him as a work of art, and 
too precious to be meddled with ; they say, " How 
very much he must have done for society before 
society could have been prevailed upon to give him 
so much money ; " so magnificent an organisation 
overawes them ; they regard it as a thing dropped 
from heaven. 

" Money," they say, " is the symbol of duty, it is 

the sacrament of having done for mankind that 

which mankind wanted. Mankind may not be a 

208 



What they Mean 

very good judge, but there is no better." This 
used to shock me at first, when I remembered that 
it had been said on high authority that they who 
have riches shall enter hardly into the kingdom of 
heaven ; but the influence of Erewhon had made 
me begin to see things in a new light, and I could 
not help thinking that they who have not riches 
shall enter more hardly still. 

People oppose money to culture, and imply that 
if a man has spent his time in inaking money he 
will not be cultivated — fallacy of fallacies ! As 
though there could be a greater aid to culture 
than the having earned an honourable indepen- 
dence, and as though any amount of culture will 
do much for the man who is penniless, except 
make him feel his position more deeply. The 
young man who was told to sell all his goods and 
give to the poor, must have been an entirely ex- 
ceptional person if the advice was given wisely, 
either for him or for the poor ; how much more 
often does it happen that we perceive a man to 
have all sorts of good qualities except money, and 
feel that his real duty lies in getting every half- 
penny that he can persuade others to pay him for 
his services, and becoming rich. It has been said 
that the love of money is the root of all evil. The 
want of money is so quite as truly. 

The above may sound irreverent, but it is con- 
ceived in a spirit of the most utter reverence for 
those things which do alone deserve it — that is, for 

the things which are, which mould us and fashion 

209 o 



Erewhon 

us, be they what they may ; for the things that have 
power to punish us, and which will punish us if we 
do not heed them ; for our masters therefore. But 
I am drifting away from my story. 

They have another plan about which they are mak- 
ing a great noise and fuss, much as some are doing 
with women's rights in England. A party of extreme 
radicals have professed themselves unable to decide 
upon the superiority of age or youth. At present 
all goes on the supposition that it is desirable to 
make the young old as soon as possible. Some 
would have it that this is wrong, and that the 
object of education should be to keep the old 
young as long as possible. They say that each age 
should take it turn in turn about, week by week, one 
week the old to be topsawyers, and the other the 
young, drawing the line at thirty-five years of age ; I 
but they insist that the young should be allowed to 
inflict corporal chastisement on the old, without ^ 
which the old would be quite incorrigible. In any 
European country this would be out of the ques- 
tion ; but it is not so there, for the straighteners 
are constantly ordering people to be flogged, so 
that they are familiar with the notion. I do not 
suppose that the idea will be ever acted upon ; but 
its having been even mooted is enough to show the 
utter perversion of the Erewhonian mind. 



810 



CHAPTER XXI 

THE COLLEGES OF UNREASON 

I HAD now been a visitor with the Nosnibors for 
some five or six months, and though I had fre- 
quently proposed to leave them and take apart- 
ments of my own, they would not hear of my 
doing so. I suppose they thought I should be 
more likely to fall in love with Zulora if I re- 
mained, but it was my affection for Arowhena that 
kept me. 

During all this time both Arowhena and my- 
self had been dreaming, and drifting towards an 
avowed attachment, but had not dared to face 
the real difficulties of the position. Gradually, 
however, matters came to a crisis in spite of our- 
selves, and we got to see the true state of the 
case, all too clearly. 

One evening we were sitting in the garden, and I 
had been trying in every stupid roundabout way to 
get her to say that she should be at any rate sorry 
for a man, if he really loved a woman who would 
not marry him. I had been stammering and blush- 
ing, and been as silly as any one could be, and I 
suppose had pained her by fishing for pity for my- 
self in such a transparent way, and saying nothing 
about her own need of it ; at any rate, she turned 

211 



Erewhon 



upon me with a sweet sad smile and said, " Sorry ? 
I am sorry for myself ; I am sorry for you ; and 
I am sorry for every one." The words had no 
sooner crossed her lips than she bowed her hea^, 
gave me a look as though I were to make ho 
answer, and left me. 

The words were few and simple, but the manner 
with which they were uttered was ineffable : the 
scales fell from my eyes, and I felt that I had no 
right to try and induce her to infringe one of the 
most inviolable customs of her country, as she 
needs must do if she were to marry me. I sat for 
a long while thinking, and when I remembered the 
sin and shame and misery which an unrighteous 
marriage — for as such it would be held in Erewhon 
— would entail, I became thoroughly ashamed of 
myself for having been so long self-blinded. I 
write coldly now, but I suffered keenly at the time, 
and should probably retain a much more vivid 
recollection of what I felt, had not all ended so 
happily. 

As for giving up the idea of marrying Arowhena, 
it never so much as entered my head to do so : the 
solution must be found in some other direction 
than this. The idea of waiting till somebody 
married Zulora was to be no less summarily dis- 
missed. To marry Arowhena at once in Erewhon 
— this had already been abandoned : there remained 
therefore but one alternative, and that was to run 
away with her, and get her with me to Europe, 
where there would be no bar to our union save 

212 



Colleges of Unreason 

my own impecuniosity, a matter which gave me 
no uneasiness. 

To this obvious and simple plan I could see but 
two objections that deserved the name, — the first, 
that perhaps Arowhena would not come ; the 
second, that it was almost impossible for me to 
escape even alone, for the king had himself told 
me that I was to consider myself a prisoner on 
parole, and that the first sign of my endeavouring 
to escape would cause me to be sent to one of the 
hospitals for incurables. Besides, I did not know 
the geography of the country, and even were I to 
try and find my way back, I should be discovered 
long before I had reached the pass over which I 
had come. How then could I hope to be able 
to take Arowhena with me ? For days and days 
I turned these difficulties over in my mind, and 
at last hit upon as wild a plan as was ever sug- 
gested by extremity. This was to meet the second 
difficulty : the first gave me less uneasiness, for 
when Arowhena and I next met after our interview 
in the garden I could see that she had suffered not 
less acutely than myself. 

I resolved that I would have another interview 

with her — the last for the present — that I would 

then leave her, and set to work upon maturing my 

plan as fast as possible. We got a chance of being 

alone together, and then I gave myself the loose 

rein, and told her how passionately and devotedly 

I loved her. She said little in return, but her tears 

(which I could not refrain from answering with 

«i3 



Erewhon 



my own) and the little she did say were quite 
enough to show me that I should meet with no 
obstacle from her. Then I asked her whether she 
would run a terrible risk which we should share 
in common, if, in case of success, I could take her 
to my own people, to the home of my mother and 
sisters, who would welcome her very gladly. At 
the same time I pointed out that the chances of 
failure were far greater than those of success, and 
that the probability was that even though I could 
get so far as to carry my design into execution, it 
would end in death to us both. 

I was not mistaken in her ; she said that she 
believed I loved her as much as she loved me, and 
that she would brave anything if I could only assure 
her that what I proposed would not be thought dis- 
honourable in England ; she could not live without 
me, and would rather die with me than alone ; that 
death was perhaps the best for us both ; that I 
must plan, and that when the hour came I was to 
send for her, and trust her not to fail me ; and so 
after many tears and embraces, we tore ourselves 
away. 

I then left the Nosnibors, took a lodging in the 
town, and became melancholy to my heart's con- 
tent. Arowhena and I used to see each other 
sometimes, for I had taken to going regularly to 
the Musical Banks, but Mrs. Nosnibor and Zulora 
both treated me with considerable coldness. I felt 
sure that they suspected me. Arowhena looked 

miserable, and I saw that her purse was now always 

214 



Colleges of Unreason 

as full as she could fill it with the Musical Bank 
money — much fuller than of old. Then the horrible 
thought occurred to me that her health might break 
down, and that she might be subjected to a criminal 
prosecution. Oh ! how I hated Erewhon at that 
time. 

I was still received at court, but my good looks 
were beginning to fail me, and I was not such an 
adept at concealing the effects of pain as the Ere- 
whonians are. I could see that my friends began 
to look concerned about me, and was obliged to 
take a leaf out of Mahaina's book, and pretend to 
have developed a taste for drinking. I even con- 
sulted a straightener as though this were so, and 
submitted to much discomfort. This made matters 
better for a time, but I could see that my friends 
thought less highly of my constitution as my flesh 
began to fall away. 

I was told that the poor made an outcry about 
my pension, and I saw a stinging article in an anti- 
ministerial paper, in which the writer went so far 
as to say that my having light hair reflected little 
credit upon me, inasmuch as I had been reported 
to have said that it was a common thing in the 
country from which I came. I have reason to 
believe that Mr. Nosnibor himself inspired this 
article. Presently it came round to me that the 
king had begun to dwell upon my having been 
possessed of a watch, and to say that I ought to 
be treated medicinally for having told him a lie 

about the balloons. I saw misfortune gathering 

215 



Erewhon 

round me in every direction, and felt that I should I 
have need of all ray wits and a good many more, 
if I was to steer myself and Arowhena to a good 
conclusion. 

There were some who continued to show me kind- 
ness, and strange to say, I received the most from 
the very persons from whom I should have least 
expected it — I mean from the cashiers of the 
Musical Banks. I had made the acquaintance of 
several of these persons, and now that I frequented 
their bank, they were inclined to make a good deal 
of me. One of them, seeing that I was thoroughly 
out of health, though of course he pretended not to 
notice it, suggested that I should take a little change 
of air and go down with him to one of the principal 
towns, which was some two or three days' journey 
from the metropolis, and the chief seat of the 
Colleges of Unreason ; he assured me that I should 
be delighted with what I saw, and that I should 
receive a most hospitable welcome. I determined 
therefore to accept the invitation. 

We started two or three days later, and after a 

night on the road, we arrived at our destination 

towards evening. It was now full spring, and as 

nearly as might be ten months since I had started 

with Chowbok on my expedition, but it seemed 

more like ten years. The trees were in their freshest 

beauty, and the air had become warm without 

being oppressively hot. After having lived so many 

months in the metropolis, the sight of the country, 

and the country villages through which we passed 

216 



Colleges of Unreason 

refreshed me greatly, but I could not forget my 
troubles. The last five miles or so were the most 
beautiful part of the journey, for the country be- 
came more undulating, and the woods were more 
extensive ; but the first sight of the city of the col- 
leges itself was the most delightful of all. I cannot 
imagine that there can be any fairer in the whole 
world, and I expressed my pleasure to my com- 
panion, and thanked him for having brought me. 

We drove to an inn in the middle of the town, 
and then, while it was still light, my friend the 
cashier, whose name was Thims, took me for a 
stroll in the streets and in the court-yards of the 
principal colleges. Their beauty and interest were 
extreme ; it was impossible to see them without 
being attracted towards them ; and I thought to 
myself that he must be indeed an ill-grained and 
ungrateful person who can have been a member of 
one of these colleges without retaining an affec- 
tionate feeling towards it for the rest of his life. 
All my misgivings gave way at once when I saw the 
beauty and venerable appearance of this delightful 
city. For half-an-hour I forgot both myself and 
Arowhena. 

After supper Mr. Thims told me a good deal 
about the system of education which is here prac- 
tised. I already knew a part of what I heard, but 
much was new to me, and I obtained a better idea 
of the Erewhonian position than I had done hither- 
to : nevertheless there were parts of the scheme of 
which I could not comprehend the fitness, although 

217 



Erewhon 

I fully admit that this inability was probably the! 
result of my having been trained so very differently 
and to my being then much out of sorts. 

The main feature in their system is the promi- 
nence which they give to a study which I can only 
translate by the word " hypothetics." They argue 
thus — that to teach a boy merely the nature of the 
things which exist in the world around him, and 
about which he will have to be conversant during 
his whole life, would be giving him but a narrow 
and shallow conception of the universe, which it is 
urged might contain all manner of things which 
are not now to be found therein. To open his eyes 
to these possibilities, and so to prepare him for all 
sorts of emergencies, is the object of this system of 
hypothetics. To imagine a set of utterly strange 
and impossible contingencies, and require the 
youths to give intelligent answers to the questions 
that arise therefrom, is reckoned the fittest conceiv- 
able way of preparing them for the actual conduct 
of their affairs in after life. 

Thus they are taught what is called the hypo- 
thetical language for many of their best years — a 
language which was originally composed at a time 
when the country was in a very different state of 
civilisation to what it is at present, a state which 
has long since disappeared and been superseded. 
Many valuable maxims and noble thoughts which 
were at one time concealed in it have become 
current in their modern literature, and have been 

translated over and over again into the language 

218 



Colleges of Unreason 

now spoken. Surely then it would seem enough 
that the study of the original language should be 
confined to the few whose instincts led them 
naturally to pursue it. 

But the Erewhonians think differently ; the store 
they set by this hypothetical language can hardly 
be believed ; they will even give any one a main- 
tenance for life if he attains a considerable pro- 
ficiency in the study of it ; nay, they will spend 
years in learning to translate some of their own 
good poetry into the hypothetical language — to do 
so with fluency being reckoned a distinguishing 
mark of a scholar and a gentleman. Heaven forbid 
that I should be flippant, but it appeared to me to 
be a wanton waste of good human energy that 
men should spend years and years in the perfection 
of so barren an exercise, when their own civilisation 
presented problems by the hundred which cried 
aloud for solution and would have paid the solver 
handsomely ; but people know their own affairs 
best. If the youths chose it for themselves I should 
have wondered less ; but they do not choose it ; 
they have it thrust upon them, and for the most 
part are disinclined towards it. I can only say 
that all I heard in defence of the system was 
insufficient to make me think very highly of its 
advantages. 

The arguments in favour of the deliberate de- 
velopment of the unreasoning faculties were much 
more cogent. But here they depart from the 

principles on which they justify their study of 

219 



Erewhon 



hypothetics ; for they base the importance which 
they assign to hypothetics upon the fact of their 
being a preparation for the extraordinary, while 
their study of Unreason rests upon its developing 
those faculties which are required for the daily 
conduct of affairs. Hence their professorships of 
Inconsistency and Evasion, in both of which studies 
the youths are examined before being allowed t 
proceed to their degree in hypothetics. The morei 
earnest and conscientious students attain to a prO' 
ficiency in these subjects which is quite surprising 
there is hardly any inconsistency so glaring but 
they soon learn to defend it, or injunction so clear 
that they cannot find some pretext for disregard- 
ing it. 

Life, they urge, would be intolerable if men were 
to be guided in all they did by reason and reason 
only. Reason betrays men into the drawing of 
hard and fast lines, and to the defining by language 
— language being like the sun, which rears and 
then scorches. Extremes are alone logical, but 
they are always absurd ; the mean is illogical, but 
an illogical mean is better than the sheer absurdity 
of an extreme. There are no follies and no un- 
reasonablenesses so great as those which can 
apparently be irrefragably defended by reason 
itself, and there is hardly an error into which men 
may not easily be led if they base their conduct 
upon reason only. 

Reason might very possibly abolish the double 
currency ; it might even attack the personality of 



!S 

1 



220 



Colleges of Unreason 

Hope and Justice. Besides, people have such a 
strong natural bias towards it that they will seek 
it for themselves and act upon it quite as much as 
or more than is good for them : there is no need 
of encouraging reason. With unreason the case 
is different. She is the natural complement of 
reason, without whose existence reason itself were 
non-existent. 

If, then, reason would be non-existent were there 
no such thing as unreason, surely it follows that 
the more unreason there is, the more reason there 
must be also ? Hence the necessity for the de- 
velopment of unreason, even in the interests of 
reason herself. The Professors of Unreason deny 
that they undervalue reason : none can be more 
convinced than they are, that if the double cur- 
rency cannot be rigorously deduced as a necessary 
consequence of human reason, the double cur- 
rency should cease forthwith ; but they say that 
it must be deduced from no narrow and exclusive 
view of reason which should deprive that admirable 
faculty of the one-half of its own existence. Un- 
reason is a part of reason ; it must therefore be 
allowed its full share in stating the initial condi- 
tions. 



Ml 



CHAPTER XXII 

THE COLLEGES OF UNREASON— continued 

Of genius Ihey make no account, for they sa 
that every one is a genius, more or less. No on 
is so physically sound that no part of him will b 
even a little unsound, and no one is so disease 
but that some part of him will be healthy — so 
no man is so mentally and morally sound, but 
that he will be in part both mad and wicked j 
and no man is so mad and wicked but he will be 
sensible and honourable in part. In like manner 
there is no genius who is not also a fool, and no 
fool who is not also a genius. 

When I talked about originality and genius to 
some gentlemen whom I met at a supper party 
given by Mr. Thims in my honour, and said that 
original thought ought to be encouraged, I had 
to eat my words at once. Their view evidently 
was that genius was like offences — needs must 
that it come, but woe unto that man through 
whom it comes. A man's business, they hold, iS 
to think as his neighbours do, for Heaven help him 
if he thinks good what they count bad. And really 
it is hard to see how the Erewhonian theory differs 
from our own, for the word " idiot " only meansj 
a person who forms his opinions for himself. 



Colleges of Unreason 

The venerable Professor of Worldly Wisdom, a 
man verging on eighty but still hale, spoke to 
me very seriously on this subject in consequence 
of the few words that I had imprudently let fall 
in defence of genius. He was one of those who 
carried most weight in the university, and had the 
reputation of having done more perhaps than 
any other living man to suppress any kind of 
originality. 

"It is not our business," he said, "to help 
students to think for themselves. Surely this is 
the very last thing which one who wishes them 
well should encourage them to do. Our duty is 
to ensure that they shall think as we do, or at 
any rate, as we hold it expedient to say we do." 
In some respects, however, he was thought to hold 
somewhat radical opinions, for he was President 
of the Society for the Suppression of Useless 
Knowledge, and for the Completer Obliteration 
of the Past. 

As regards the tests that a youth must pass 

oefore he can get a degree, I found that they 

have no class lists, and discourage anything like 

competition among the students ; this, indeed, 

they regard as self-seeking and unneighbourly. 

The examinations are conducted by way of papers 

written by the candidate on set subjects, some 

of which are known to him beforehand, while 

others are devised with a view of testing his 

general capacity and savoir faire. 

My friend the Professor of Worldly Wisdom 
223 



Erewhon 

was the terror of the greater number of students ;i 
and, so far as I could judge, he very well might 
be, for he had taken his Professorship more 
seriously than any of the other Professors had 
done. I heard of his having plucked one poor 
fellow for want of sufficient vagueness in his 
saving clauses paper. Another was sent down 
for having written an article on a scientific sub- 
ject without having made free enough use of the 
words " carefully," " patiently," and " earnestly." 
One man was refused a degree for being too often 
and too seriously in the right, while a few days 
before I came a whole batch had been plucked 
for insufficient distrust of printed matter. 

About this there was just then rather a ferment, 
for it seems that the Professor had written an 
article in the leading university magazine, which 
was well known to be by him, and which abounded 
in all sorts of plausible blunders. He then set 
a paper which afforded the examinees an oppor- 
tunity of repeating these blunders — which, be- 
lieving the article to be by their own examiner, 
they of course did. The Professor plucked every 
single one of them, but his action was considered 
to have been not quite handsome. 

I told them of Homer's noble line to the effect 

that a man should strive ever to be foremost andj 

in all things to outvie his peers ; but they said] 

that no wonder the countries in which such a 

detestable maxim was held in admiration were 

always flying at one another's throats. 

224 



Colleges of Unreason 

" Why," asked one Professor, " should a man 
want to be better than his neighbours ? Let him 
be thankful if he is no worse." 

I ventured feebly to say that I did not see how 
progress could be made in any art or science, or 
indeed in anything at all, without more or less 
self-seeking, and hence unamiability. 

" Of course it cannot," said the Professor, " and 
therefore we object to progress." 

After which there was no more to be said. 
Later on, however, a young Professor took me 
aside and said he did not think I quite understood 
their views about progress. 

" We like progress," he said, " but it must com- 
mend itself to the common sense of the people. 
If a man gets to know more than his neighbours 
he should keep his knowledge to himself till he 
has sounded them, and seen whether they agree, 
or are likely to agree with him. He said it was 
as immoral to be too far in front of one's own 
age, as to lag too far behind it. If a man can 
carry his neighbours with him, he may say what 
he likes ; but if not, what insult can be more 
gratuitous than the telling them what they do 
not want to know ? A man should remember 
that intellectual over-indulgence is one of the 
most insidious and disgraceful forms that excess 
can take. Granted that every one should exceed 
more or less, inasmuch as absolutely perfect 
sanity would drive any man mad the moment 

he reached it, but ..." 

225 p 



Erewhon 



He was now warming to his subject and I 
was beginning to wonder how I should get rid 
of him, when the party broke up, and though I 
promised to call on him before I left, I was 
unfortunately prevented from doing so. 

I have now said enough to give English readers 
some idea of the strange views which the Ere- 
whonians hold concerning unreason, hypothetics, 
and education generally. In many respects they 
were sensible enough, but I could not get over 
the hypothetics, especially the turning their own 
good poetry into the hypothetical language. In 
the course of my stay I met one youth who 
told me that for fourteen years the hypothetical 
language had been almost the only thing that he 
had been taught, although he had never (to his 
credit, as it seemed to me) shown the slightest 
proclivity towards it, while he had been endowed 
with not inconsiderable ability for several other 
branches of human learning. He assured me 
that he would never open another hypothetical 
book after he had taken his degree, but would 
follow out the bent of his own inclinations. This 
was well enough, but who could give him his 
fourteen years back again ? 

I sometimes wondered how it was that the mis- 
chief done was not more clearly perceptible, and 
that the young men and women grew up as sen- 
sible and goodly as they did, in spite of the attempts 
almost deliberately made to warp and stunt their 

growth. Some doubtless received damage, from 

226 



Colleges of Unreason 

which they suffered to their Hfe's end ; but many 
seemed httle or none the worse, and some, almost 
the better. The reason would seem to be that the 
natural instinct of the lads in most cases so abso- 
lutely rebelled against their training, that do what 
the teachers might they could never get them to 
pay serious heed to it. The consequence was that 
the boys only lost their time, and not so much of 
this as might have been expected, for in their 
hours of leisure they were actively engaged in 
exercises and sports which developed their physical 
nature, and made them at any rate strong and 
healthy. 

Moreover those who had any special tastes could 
not be restrained from developing them : they 
would learn what they wanted to learn and liked, in 
spite of obstacles which seemed rather to urge them 
on than to discourage them, while for those who 
had no special capacity, the loss of time was of 
comparatively little moment ; but in spite of these 
alleviations of the mischief, I am sure that much 
harm was done to the children of the sub-wealthy 
classes, by the system which passes current among 
the Erewhonians as education. The poorest chil- 
dren suffered least — if destruction and death have 
heard the sound of wisdom, to a certain extent 
poverty has done so also. 

And yet perhaps, after all, it is better for a 

country that its seats of learning should do more 

to suppress mental growth than to encourage it. 

Were it not for a certain priggishness which these 

227 



Erewhon 



places infuse into so great a number of their 
alumni, genuine work would become dangerously 
common. It is essential that by far the greater 
part of what is said or done in the world should be 
so ephemeral as to take itself away quickly ; it 
should keep good for twenty-four hours, or even 
twice as long, but it should not be good enough a 
week hence to prevent people from going on to 
something else. No doubt the marvellous develop- 
ment of journalism in England, as also the fact that 
our seats of learning aim rather at fostering medioc- 
rity than anything higher, is due to our subcon- 
scious recognition of the fact that it is even more 
necessary to check exuberance of mental develop- 
ment than to encourage it. There can be no doubt 
that this is what our academic bodies do, and they 
do it the more effectually because they do it only 
subconsciously. They think they are advancing 
healthy mental assimilation and digestion, whereas 
in reality they are little better than cancer in the 
stomach. 

Let me return, however, to the Erewhonians. 
Nothing surprised me more than to see the occa- 
sional flashes of common sense with which one 
branch of study or another was lit up, while not a 
single ray fell upon so many others. I was particu- 
larly struck with this on strolling into the Art 
School of the University. Here I found that the 
course of study was divided into two branches — the 
practical and the commercial — no student being 
permitted to continue his studies in the actual prac- 

228 



Colleges of Unreason 

tice of the art he had taken up, unless he made 
equal progress in its commercial history. 

Thus those who were studying painting were exa- 
mined at frequent intervals in the prices which all 
the leading pictures of the last fifty or a hundred 
years had realised, and in the fluctuations in their 
values when (as often happened) they had been 
sold and resold three or four times. The artist, 
they contend, is a dealer in pictures, and it is as 
important for him to learn how to adapt his wares 
to the market, and to know approximately what 
kind of a picture will fetch how much, as it is for 
him to be able to paint the picture. This, I 
suppose, is what the French mean by laying so 
much stress upon "values." 

As regards the city itself, the more I saw the 
more enchanted I became. I dare not trust my- 
self with any description of the exquisite beauty of 
the different colleges, and their walks and gardens. 
Truly in these things alone there must be a hallow- 
ing and refining influence which is in itself half 
an education, and which no amount of error can 
wholly spoil. I was introduced to many of the 
Professors, who showed me every hospitality and 
kindness ; nevertheless I could hardly avoid a sort 
of suspicion that some of those whom I was taken 
to see had been so long engrossed in their own 
study of hypothetics that they had become the exact 
antitheses of the Athenians in the days of St. Paul ; 
for whereas the Athenians spent their lives in no- 
thing save to see and to hear some new thing, there 

329 



Erewhon 



were some here who seemed to devote themselves 
to the avoidance of every opinion with which they 
were not perfectly familiar, and regarded their 
own brains as a sort of sanctuary, to which if an 
opinion had once resorted, none other was to 
attack it. 

I should warn the reader, however, that I was 
rarely sure what the men whom I met while 
staying with Mr. Thims really meant ; for there 
was no getting anything out of them if they 
scented even a suspicion that they might be what 
they call "giving themselves away." As there is 
hardly any subject on which this suspicion cannot 
arise, I found it difficult to get definite opinions 
from any of them, except on such subjects as the 
weather, eating and drinking, holiday excursions, 
or games of skill. 

If they cannot wriggle out of expressing an 
opinion of some sort, they will commonly retail 
those of some one who has already written upon 
the subject, and conclude by saying that though 
they quite admit that there is an element of truth 
in what the writer has said, there are many points 
on which they are unable to agree with him. 
Which these points were, I invariably found my- 
self unable to determine ; indeed, it seemed to be 
counted the perfection of scholarship and good 
breeding among them not to have — much less to 
express — an opinion on any subject on which it 
might prove later that they had been mistaken. 

The art of sitting gracefully on a fence has never, 

230 



Colleges of Unreason 

I should think, been brought to greater perfection 
than at the Erewhonian Colleges of Unreason. 

Even when, wriggle as they may, they find them- 
selves pinned down to some expression of definite 
opinion, as often as not they will argue in support 
of what they perfectly well know to be untrue. 
I repeatedly met with reviews and articles even in 
their best journals, between the lines of which I 
had little difficulty in detecting a sense exactly 
contrary to the one ostensibly put forward. So 
well is this understood, that a man must be a mere 
tyro in the arts of Erewhonian polite society, 
unless he instinctively suspects a hidden " yea " 
m every " nay " that meets him. Granted that 
it comes to much the same in the end, for it does 
not matter whether "yea" is called "yea" or 
" nay," so long as it is understood which it is to 
be ; but our own more direct way of calling a 
spade a spade, rather than a rake, with the in- 
tention that every one should understand it as 
a spade, seems more satisfactory. On the other 
hand, the Erewhonian system lends itself better 
to the suppression of that downrightness which it 
seems the express aim of Erewhonian philosophy 
to discountenance. 

However this may be, the fear-of-giving-them- 
selves-away disease was fatal to the intelligence 
of those infected by it, and almost every one at 
the Colleges of Unreason had caught it to a 
greater or less degree. After a few years atrophy 
of the opinions invariably supervened, and the 

23' 



Erewhon 



sufferer became stone dead to everything except 
the more superficial aspects of those material 
objects with which he came most in contact. 
The expression on the faces of these people was 
repellent ; they did not, however, seem particu- 
larly unhappy, for they none of them had the 
faintest idea that they were in reality more dead 
than alive. No cure for this disgusting fear-of- 
giving - themselves - away disease has yet been 
discovered. 

It was during my stay in City of the Colleges 
of Unreason — a city whose Erewhonian name is 
so cacophonous that I refrain from giving it — that 
I learned the particulars of the revolution which 
had ended in the destruction of so many of the 
mechanical inventions which were formerly in 
common use. 

Mr. Thims took me to the rooms of a gentleman 
who had a great reputation for learning, but who 
was also, so Mr. Thims told me, rather a dangerous 
person, inasmuch as he had attempted to introduce 
an adverb into the hypothetical language. He had 
heard of my watch and been exceedingly anxious 
to see me, for he was accounted the most learned 
antiquary in Erewhon on the subject of mechanical 
lore. We fell to talking upon the subject, and 
when I left he gave me a reprinted copy of the 
work which brought the revolution about. 

It had taken place some five hundred yeara 

before my arrival : people had long become 

23a 



Colleges of Unreason 

thoroughly used to the change, although at the 
time that it was made the country was plunged 
into the deepest misery, and a reaction which 
followed had very nearly proved successful. Civil 
war raged for many years, and is said to have 
reduced the number of the inhabitants by one- 
half. The parties were styled the machinists and 
the anti-machinists, and in the end, as I have said 
already, the latter got the victory, treating their 
opponents with such unparalleled severity that 
they extirpated every trace of opposition. 

The wonder was that they allowed any mechani- 
cal appliances to remain in the kingdom, neither do 
I believe that they would have done so, had not 
the Professors of Inconsistency and Evasion made 
a stand against the carrying of the new principles 
to their legitimate conclusions. These Professors, 
moreover, insisted that during the struggle the 
anti-machinists should use every known improve- 
ment in the art of war, and several new weapons, 
offensive and defensive, were invented, while it was 
in progress. I was surprised at there remaining so 
many mechanical specimens as are seen in the 
museums, and at students having rediscovered their 
past uses so completely ; for at the time of the re- 
volution-the victors wrecked all the more complicated 
machines, and burned all treatises on mechanics, 
and all engineers' workshops — thus, so they thought, 
cutting the mischief out root and branch, at an 
incalculable cost of blood and treasure. 

Certainly they had not spared their labour, but 
233 



Erewhon 

work of this description can never be perfectly 
achieved, and when, some two hundred years 
before my arrival, all passion upon the subject 
had cooled down, and no one save a lunatic 
would have dreamed of reintroducing forbidden 
inventions, the subject came to be regarded as a 
curious antiquarian study, like that of some long- 
forgotten religious practices among ourselves. 
Then came the careful search for whatever frag- 
ments could be found, and for any machines that 
might have been hidden away, and also numberless 
treatises were written, showing what the functions 
of each rediscovered machine had been ; all being 
done with no idea of using such machinery again, 
but with the feelings of an English antiquarian 
concerning Druidical monuments or flint arrow 
heads. 

On my return to the metropolis, during the 
remaining weeks or rather days of my sojourn in 
Erewhon I made a resumi in English of the work 
which brought about the already mentioned re- 
volution. My ignorance of technical terms has 
led me doubtless into many errors, and I have 
occasionally, where I found translation impossible, 
substituted purely English names and ideas for the 
original Erewhonian ones, but the reader may rely 
on my general accuracy. I have thought it best to 
insert my translation here. 



234 



CHAPTER XXIII 

THE BOOK OF THE MACHINES 

The writer commences: — "There was a time, when 
the earth was to all appearance utterly destitute 
both of animal and vegetable life, and when 
according to the opinion of our best philosophers 
it was simply a hot round ball with a crust gradu- 
ally cooling. Now if a human being had existed 
while the earth was in this state and had been 
allowed to see it as though it were some other 
world with which he had no concern, and if at 
the same time he were entirely ignorant of all 
physical science, would he not have pronounced 
it impossible that creatures possessed of anything 
like consciousness should be evolved from the 
seeming cinder which he was beholding ? Would 
he not have denied that it contained any poten- 
tiahty of consciousness ? Yet in the course of 
time consciousness came. Is it not possible then 
that there may be even yet new channels dug out 
for consciousness, though we can detect no signs 
of them at present ? 

" Again. Consciousness, in anything like the 
present acceptation of the term, having been once 
a new thing — a thing, as far as we can see, sub- 
sequent even to an individual centre of action and 

235 



Erewhon 



I 



to a reproductive system (which we see existing 
in plants without apparent consciousness) — why 
may not there arise some new phase of mind 
which shall be as different from all present known 
phases, as the mind of animals is from that of 
vegetables ? 

" It would be absurd to attempt to define such 
a mental state (or whatever it may be called), in- 
asmuch as it must be something so foreign to 
man that his experience can give him no help 
towards conceiving its nature ; but surely when 
we reflect upon the manifold phases of life and 
consciousness which have been evolved already, 
it would be rash to say that no others can be 
developed, and that animal Hfe is the end of 
all things. There was a time when fire was tiie 
end of all things : another when rocks and water 
were so." 

The writer, after enlarging on the above for 
several pages, proceeded to inquire whether traces 
of the approach of such a new phase of life could 
be perceived at present ; whether we could see any 
tenements preparing which might in a remote 
futurity be adapted for it ; whether, in fact, the 
primordial cell of such a kind of life could be now 
detected upon earth. In the course of his work 
he answered this question in the affirmative and 
pointed to the higher machines. 

" There is no security " — to quote his own words 

— " against the ultimate development of mechanical 

consciousness, in the fact of machines possessing 

236 



Book of the Machines 

little consciousness now. A mollusc has not much 
consciousness. Reflect upon the extraordinary 
advance which machines have made during the last 
few hundred years, and note how slowly the animal 
and vegetable kingdoms are advancing. The more 
highly organised machines are creatures not so 
much of yesterday, as of the last five minutes, so to 
speak, in comparison with past time. Assume for 
the sake of argument that conscious beings have 
existed for some twenty million years : see what 
strides machines have made in the last thousand 1 
May not the world last twenty million years longer? 
If so, what will they not in the end become ? Is it 
not safer to nip the mischief in the bud and to 
forbid them further progress ? 

" But who can say that the vapour engine has 
not a kind of consciousness ? Where does con- 
sciousness begin, and where end ? Who can draw 
the line ? Who can draw any line ? Is not every- 
thing interwoven with everything ? Is not ma- 
chinery linked with animal life in an infinite variety 
of ways ? The shell of a hen's egg is made of a 
delicate white ware and is a machine as much as an 
egg-cup is : the shell is a device for holding the 
egg, as much as the egg-cup for holding the shell : 
both are phases of the same function ; the hen 
makes the shell in her inside, but it is pure pottery. 
She makes her nest outside of herself for con- 
venience' sake, but the nest is not more of a 
machine than the egg-shell is. A 'machine' is 

only a ' device.' " 

237 



Erewhon 



I 



Then returning to consciousness, and endeavour- 
ing to detect its earliest manifestations, the writer 
continued : — 

"There is a kind of plant that eats organic food 
with its flowers : when a fly settles upon the 
blossom, the petals close upon it and hold it fast 
till the plant has absorbed the insect into its 
system ; but they will close on nothing but what 
is good to eat ; of a drop of rain or a piece of stick 
they will take no notice. Curious ! that so un- 
conscious a thing should have such a keen eye to 
its own interest. If this is unconsciousness, where 
is the use of consciousness ? 

" Shall we say that the plant does not know what 
it is doing merely because it has no eyes, or ears, 
or brains ? If we say that it acts mechanically, and 
mechanically only, shall we not be forced to admit 
that sundry other and apparently very deliberate 
actions are also mechanical ? If it seems to us that 
the plant kills and eats a fly mechanically, may it 
not seem to the plant that a man must kill and eat 
a sheep mechanically ? 

" But it may be said that the plant is void of 
reason, because the growth of a plant is an in- 
voluntary growth. Given earth, air, and due 
temperature, the plant must grow : it is like a clock, 
which being once wound up will go till it is stopped 
or run down : it is like the wind blowing on the 
sails of a ship — the ship must go when the wind 
blows it. But can a healthy boy help growing if 
he have good meat and drink and clothing ? can 

238 



Book of the Machines 

anything help going as long as it is wound up, or 
go on after it is run down ? Is there not a winding 
up process everywhere ? 

" Even a potato ^ in a dark cellar has a certain 
low cunning about him which serves him in ex- 
cellent stead. He knows perfectly well what he 
wants and how to get it. He sees the light coming 
from the cellar window and sends his shoots 
crawling straight thereto : they will crawl along the 
floor and up the wall and out at the cellar window ; 
if there be a little earth anywhere on the journey 
he will find it and use it for his own ends. What 
deliberation he may exercise in the matter of his 
roots when he is planted in the earth is a thing 
unknown to us, but we can imagine him saying, 
' I will have a tuber here and a tuber there, and I 
will suck whatsoever advantage I can from all my 
surroundings. This neighbour I will overshadow, 
and that I will undermine ; and what I can do shall 
be the limit of what I will do. He that is stronger 
and better placed than I shall overcome me, and 
him that is weaker I will overcome.' 

"The potato says these things by doing them, 
which is the best of languages. What is conscious- 
ness if this is not consciousness ? We find it 
difficult to sympathise with the emotions of a 

* The root alluded to is not the potato of our own gardens, but a 
plant so near akin to it that I have ventured to translate it thus. 
Apropos of its intelligence, had the writer known Butler he would 
probably have said — 

" He knows what's what, and that's as high, 
As metaphysic wit can fly." 
239 



Erewhon 



potato ; so we do with those of an oyster. Neither 
of these things makes a noise on being boiled or 
opened, and noise appeals to us more strongly than 
anything else, because we make so much about our 
own sufferings. Since, then, they do not annoy us 
by any expression of pain we call them emotionless; 
and so qud mankind they are ; but mankind is not 
everybody. 

" If it be urged that the action of the potato is 
chemical and mechanical only, and that it is due 
to the chemical and mechanical effects of light and 
heat, the answer would seem to lie in an inquiry 
whether every sensation is not chemical and me- 
chanical in its operation ? whether those things 
which we deem most purely spiritual are anything 
but disturbances of equilibrium in an infinite series 
of levers, beginning with those that are too small 
for microscopic detection, and going up to the 
human arm and the appliances which it makes use 
of ? whether there be not a molecular action of 
thought, whence a dynamical theory of the passions 
shall be deducible ? Whether strictly speaking we 
should not ask what kind of levers a man is made 
of rather than what is his temperament ? How 
are they balanced ? How much of such and such 
will it take to weigh them down so as to make him. 
do so and so ? " 

The writer went on to say that he anticipated a 

time when it would be possible, by examining a 

single hair with a powerful microscope, to know 

whether its owner could be insulted with impunity. 

240 



I 



Book of the Machines 

He then became more and more obscure, so that I 
was obHged to give up all attempt at translation ; 
neither did I follow the drift of his argument. On 
coming to the next part which I could construe, I 
found that he had changed his ground. 

" Either," he proceeds, " a great deal of action 
that has been called purely mechanical and uncon- 
scious must be admitted to contain more elements 
of consciousness than has been allowed hitherto 
(and in this case germs of consciousness will be 
found in many actions of the higher machines) — Or 
(assuming the theory of evolution but at the same 
time denying the consciousness of vegetable and 
crystalline action) the race of man has descended 
from tilings which had no consciousness at all. In 
this case there is no a priori improbability in the 
descent of conscious (and more than conscious) 
machines from those which now exist, except that 
which is suggested by the apparent absence of any- 
thing like a reproductive system in the mechanical 
kingdom. This absence however is only apparent, 
as I shall presently show. 

" Do not let me be misunderstood as living in 
fear of any actually existing machine ; there is pro- 
bably no known machine which is more than a 
prototype of future mechanical life. The present 
machines are to the future as the early Saurians to 
man. The largest of them will probably greatly 
diminish in size. Some of the lowest vertebrata 
attained a much greater bulk than has descended to 

their more highly organised living representatives, 

241 Q 



Erewhon 



and in like manner a diminution in the size of 
machines has often attended their development and 
progress. 

" Take the watch, for example ; examine its beau- 
tiful structure ; observe the intelligent play of the 
minute members which compose it: yet this little 
creature is but a development of the cumbrous 
clocks that preceded it ; it is no deterioration from 
them. A day may come when clocks, which cer- 
tainly at the present time are not diminishing in 
bulk, will be superseded owing to the universal 
use of watches, in which case they will become as 
extinct as ichthyosauri, while the watch, whose ten- 
dency has for some years been to decrease in size 
rather than the contrary, will remain the only exist- 
ing type of an extinct race. 

" But returning to the argument, I would repeat 
that I fear none of the existing machines ; what I 
fear is the extraordinary rapidity with which they 
are becoming something very different to what they 
are at present. No class of beings have in any time 
past made so rapid a movement forward. Should 
not that movement be jealously watched, and 
checked while we can still check it ? And is it 
not necessary for this end to destroy the more 
advanced of the machines which are in use at 
present, though it is admitted that they are in 
themselves harmless ? 

" As yet the machines receive their impressions 

through the agency of man's senses : one travelling 

machine calls to another in a shrill accent of alarm 

242 



Book of the Machines 

and the other instantly retires ; but it is through the 
ears of the driver that the voice of the one has acted 
upon the other. Had there been no driver, the 
callee would have been deaf to the caller. There 
was a time when it must have seemed highly im- 
probable that machines should learn to make their 
wants known by sound, even through the ears of 
man ; may we not conceive, then, that a day will 
come when those ears will be no longer needed, 
and the hearing will be done by the delicacy of the 
machine's own construction ? — when its language 
shall have been developed from the cry of animals 
to a speech as intricate as our own ? 

" It is possible that by that time children will 
learn the differential calculus — as they learn now 
to speak — from their mothers and nurses, or that 
they may talk in the hypothetical language, and 
work rule of three sums, as soon as they are born ; 
but this is not probable ; we cannot calculate on 
any corresponding advance in man's intellectual or 
physical powers which shall be a set-off against the 
far greater development which seems in store for 
the machines. Some people may say that man's 
moral influence will suffice to rule them ; but I 
cannot think it will ever be safe to repose much 
trust in the moral sense of any machine. 

" Again, might not the glory of the machines 

consist in their being without this same boasted 

gift of language ? ' Silence,' it has been said by 

one writer, ' is a virtue which renders us agreeable 

to our fellow-creatures.' " 

243 



CHAPTER XXIV 

THE MACHINES — continued 

" But other questions come upon us. What is a 
man's eye but a machine for the Httle creature that 
sits behind in his brain to look through ? A dead 
eye is nearly as good as a living one for some time 
after the man is dead. It is not the eye that cannot 
see, but the restless one that cannot see through it. 
Is it man's eyes, or is it the big seeing-engine which 
has revealed to us the existence of worlds beyond 
worlds into infinity ? What has made man familiar 
with the scenery of the moon, the spots on the sun, 
or the geography of the planets ? He is at the 
mercy of the seeing-engine for these things, and is 
powerless unless he tack it on to his own identity, 
and make it part and parcel of himself. Or, again, 
is it the eye, or the little see-engine, which has 
shown us the existence of infinitely minute organ- 
isms which swarm unsuspected around us ? 

" And take man's vaunted power of calculation. 
Have we not engines which can do all manner of 
sums more quickly and correctly than we can ? 
What prizeman in Hypothetics at any of our Col- 
leges of Unreason can compare with some of these 
machines in their own line ? In fact, wherever 
precision is required man flies to the machine 



244 



1 



Book of the Machines 

at once, as far preferable to himself. Our sum- 
engines never drop a figure, nor our looms a stitch ; 
the machine is brisk and active, when the man is 
weary ; it is clear-headed and collected, when the 
man is stupid and dull ; it needs no slumber, when 
man must sleep or drop ; ever at its post, ever 
ready for work, its alacrity never flags, its patience 
never gives in ; its might is stronger than combined 
hundreds, and swifter than the flight of birds ; it 
can burrow beneath the earth, and walk upon the 
largest rivers and sink not. This is the green tree ; 
what then shall be done in the dry ? 

" Who shall say that a man does see or hear ? 
He is such a hive and swarm of parasites that it is 
doubtful whether his body is not more theirs than 
his, and whether he is anything but another kind of 
ant-heap after all. May not man himself become a 
sort of parasite upon the machines ? An affection- 
ate machine-tickling aphid ? 

" It is said by some that our blood is composed 
of infinite living agents which go up and down the 
highways and byways of our bodies as people in 
the streets of a city. When we look down from 
a high place upon crowded thoroughfares, is it 
possible not to think of corpuscles of blood travel- 
ling through veins and nourishing the heart of the 
town ? No mention shall be made of sewers, nor 
of the hidden nerves which serve to communicate 
sensations from one part of the town's body to 
another ; nor of the yawning jaws of the railway 
stations, whereby the circulation is carried directly 

245 



Erewhon 

into the heart, — which receive the venous Hnes, and 
disgorge the arterial, with an eternal pulse of 
people. And the sleep of the town, how life-like I 
with its change in the circulation." 

Here the writer became again so hopelessly ob- 
scure that I was obliged to miss several pages. He 
resumed : — 

" It can be answered that even though machines 
ihould hear never so well and speak never so 
wisely, they will still always do the one or the 
other for our advantage, not their own ; that man 
will be the ruling spirit and the machine the 
servant ; that as soon as a machine fails to dis- 
charge the service which man expects from it, it 
is doomed to extinction ; that the machines stand 
to man simply in the relation of lower animals, the 
vapour-engine itself being only a more economical 
kind of horse ; so that instead of being likely to be 
developed into a higher kind of life than man's, 
they owe their very existence and progress to their 
power of ministering to human wants, and must 
therefore both now and ever be man's inferiors. 

"This is all very well. But the servant glides by 

imperceptible approaches into the master ; and we 

have come to such a pass that, even now, man I 

must suffer terribly on ceasing to benefit the 

machines. If all machines were to be annihilated 

at one moment, so that not a knife nor lever nor 

rag of clothing nor anything whatsoever were left 

to man but his bare body alone that he was born 

with, and if all knowledge of mechanical laws were 

346 



Book of the Machines 

taken from him so that he could make no more 

machines, and all machine-made food destroyed so 

that the race of man should be left as it were naked 

upon a desert island, we should become extinct 

in six weeks. A few miserable individuals might 

linger, but even these in a year or two would 

become worse than monkeys. Man's very soul is 

due to the machines ; it is a machine-made thing : 

he thinks as he thinks, and feels as he feels, through 

the work that machines have wrought upon him, 

and their existence is quite as much a sine qud non 

for his, as his for theirs. This fact precludes us from 

proposing the complete annihilation of machinery, 

but surely it indicates that we should destroy as 

many of them as we can possibly dispense with, 

lest they should tyrannise over us even more 

completely. 

"True, from a low materialistic point of view, 

it would seem that those thrive best who use 

machinery wherever its use is possible with profit ; 

but this is the art of the machines — they serve that 

they may rule. They bear no malice towards man 

for destroying a whole race of them provided he 

creates a better instead ; on the contrary, they 

reward him liberally for having hastened their 

development. It is for neglecting them that he 

incurs their wrath, or for using inferior machines, 

or for not making sufficient exertions to invent new 

ones, or for destroying them without replacing 

them ; yet these are the very things we ought to 

do, and do quickly ; for though our rebeUion 

247 



Erewhon 



against their infant power will cause infinite suffer- 
ing, what will not things come to, if that rebellion 
is delayed •? 

"They have preyed upon man's grovelling prefer- 
ence for his material over his spiritual interests, 
and have betrayed him into supplying that element 
of struggle and warfare without which no race can 
advance. The lower animals progress because they 
struggle with one another ; the weaker die, the 
stronger breed and transmit their strength. The 
machines being of themselves unable to struggle, 
have got man to do their struggling for them : as 
long as he fulfils this function duly, all goes well 
with him — at least he thinks so ; but the moment 
he fails to do his best for the advancement of 
machinery by encouraging the good and destroying 
the bad, he is left behind in the race of com- 
petition ; and this means that he will be made 
uncomfortable in a variety of ways, and perhaps 
die. 

" So that even now the machines will only serve 

on condition of being served, and that too upon 

their own terms ; the moment their terms are not 

complied with, they jib, and either smash both 

themselves and all whom they can reach, or turn 

churlish and refuse to work at all. How many men 

at this hour are living in a state of bondage to the 

machines ? How many spend their whole lives, 

from the cradle to the grave, in tending them by 

night and day ? Is it not plain that the machines 

are gaining ground upon us, when we reflect on the 

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Book of the Machines 

increasing number of those who are bound down 
to them as slaves, and of those who devote their 
whole souls to the advancement of the mechanical 
kingdom ? 

" The vapour-engine must be fed with food and 
consume it by fire even as man consumes it ; it 
supports its combustion by air as man supports it ; 
it has a pulse and circulation as man has. It may 
be granted that man's body is as yet the more 
versatile of the two, but then man's body is an 
older thing ; give the vapour-engine but half the 
time that man has had, give it also a continuance 
of our present infatuation, and what may it not ere 
long attain to ? 

"There are certain functions indeed of the 
vapour-engine which will probably remain un- 
changed for myriads of years — which in fact will 
perhaps survive when the use of vapour has been 
superseded : the piston and cylinder, the beam, the 
fly-wheel, and other parts of the machine will pro- 
bably be permanent, just as we see that man and 
many of the lower animals share like modes of 
eating, drinking, and sleeping ; thus they have 
hearts which beat as ours, veins and arteries, eyes, 
ears, and noses ; they sigh even in their sleep, and 
weep and yawn ; they are affected by their children; 
they feel pleasure and pain, hope, fear, anger, 
shame ; they have memory and prescience ; the)" 
know that if certain things happen to them they 
will die, and they fear death as much as we do j 

they communicate their thoughts to one another, 

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Erewhon 



and some of them deliberately act in concert. The 
comparison of similarities is endless : I only make 
it because some may say that since the vapour- 
engine is not likely to be improved in the main 
particulars, it is unlikely to be henceforward exten- 
sively modified at all. This is too good to be true : 
it will be modified and suited for an infinite variety 
of purposes, as much as man has been modified so 
as to exceed the brutes in skill. 

" In the meantime the stoker is almost as much a 
cook for his engine as our own cooks for ourselves. 
Consider also the colliers and pitmen and coal 
merchants and coal trains, and the men who drive 
them, and the ships that carry coals — what an army 
of servants do the machines thus employ ! Are 
there not probably more men engaged in tending 
machinery than in tending men ? Do not machines 
eat as it were by mannery ? Are we not ourselves 
creating our successors in the supremacy of the 
earth ? daily adding to the beauty and delicacy of 
their organisation, daily giving them greater skill 
and supplying more and more of that self-regulat- 
ing self-acting power which will be better than any 
intellect ? 

" What a new thing it is for a machine to feed at 

all I The plough, the spade, and the cart must eat 

through man's stomach ; the fuel that sets them 

going must burn in the furnace of a man or of 

horses. Man must consume bread and meat or he 

cannot dig ; the bread and meat are the fuel which 

drive the spade. If a plough be drawn by horses, 

250 



Book of the Machines 

the power is supplied by grass or beans or oats, 
which being burnt in the belly of the cattle give the 
power of working : without this fuel the work would 
cease, as an engine would stop if its furnaces were 
to go out. 

"A man of science has demonstrated 'that no 
animal has the power of originating mechanical 
energy, but that all the work done in its life by any 
animal, and all the heat that has been emitted from 
it, and the heat which would be obtained by burn- 
ing the combustible matter which has been lost 
from its body during life, and by burning its body 
after death, make up altogether an exact equivalent 
to the heat which would be obtained by burning as 
much food as it has used during its life, and an 
amount of fuel which would generate as much heat 
as its body if burned immediately after death.' I 
do not know how he has found this out, but he is 
a man of science — how then can it be objected 
against the future vitality of the machines that they 
are, in their present infancy, at the beck and call 
of beings who are themselves incapable of originat- 
ing mechanical energy ? 

"The main point, however, to be observed as 

affording cause for alarm is, that whereas animals 

were formerly the only stomachs of the machines, 

there are now many which have stomachs of their 

own, and consume their food themselves. This is 

a great step towards their becoming, if not animate, 

yet something so near akin to it, as not to differ 

more widely from our own life than animals do 

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Erewhon 



from vegetables. And though man should remain, 
in some respects, the higher creature, is not this 
in accordance with the practice of nature, which 
allows superiority in some things to animals which 
have, on the whole, been long surpassed ? Has she 
not allowed the ant and the bee to retain superi- 
ority over man in the organisation of their com- 
munities and social arrangements, the bird in 
traversing the air, the fish in swimming, the horse 
in strength and fleetness, and the dog in self-sacri- 
fice ? 

'' It is said by some with whom I have conversed 
upon this subject, that the machines can never be 
developed into animate or qziast-3.mm3.te existences, 
inasmuch as they have no reproductive system, nor 
seem ever likely to possess one. If this be taken 
to mean that they cannot marry, and that we are 
never likely to see a fertile union between two 
vapour-engines with the young ones playing about 
the door of the shed, however greatly we might 
desire to do so, I will readily grant it. But the 
objection is not a very profound one. No one 
expects that all the features of the now existing 
organisations will be absolutely repeated in an 
entirely new class of life. The reproductive system 
of animals differs widely from that of plants, but 
both are reproductive systems. Has nature ex- 
hausted her phases of this power ? 

" Surely if a machine is able to reproduce another 

machine systematically, we may say that it has a 

reproductive system. What is a reproductive sys- 

252 



Book of the Machines 

tern, if it be not a system for reproduction ? And 
how few of the machines are there which have not 
been produced systematically by other machines ? 
But it is man that makes them do so. Yes ; but is 
it not insects that make many of the plants repro- 
ductive, and would not whole families of plants die 
out if their fertilisation was not effected by a class 
of agents utterly foreign to themselves ? Does any 
one say that the red clover has no reproductive 
system because the humble bee (and the humble 
bee only) must aid and abet it before it can repro- 
duce ? No one. The humble bee is a part of the 
reproductive system of the clover. Each one of 
ourselves has sprung from minute animalcules 
whose entity was entirely distinct from our own, 
and which acted after their kind with no thought 
or heed of what we might think about it. These 
Httle creatures are part of our own reproductive 
system ; then why not we part of that of the 
machines ? 

" But the machines which reproduce machinery 
do not reproduce machines after their own kind. 
A thimble may be made by machinery, but it was 
not made by, neither will it ever make, a thimble. 
Here, again, if we turn to nature we shall find 
abundance of analogies which will teach us that a 
reproductive system may be in full force without 
the thing produced being of the same kind as that 
which produced it. Very few creatures reproduce 
after their own kind ; they reproduce something 

which has the potentiality of becoming that which 

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Erewhon 



their parents were. Thus the butterfly lays an egg, 
which egg can become a caterpillar, which cater- 
pillar can become a chrysalis, which chrysalis can 
become a butterfly ; and though I freely grant that 
the machines cannot be said to have more than the 
germ of a true reproductive system at present, have 
we not just seen that they have only recently ob- 
tained the germs of a mouth and stomach ? And 
may not some stride be made in the direction of 
true reproduction which shall be as great as that 
which has been recently taken in the direction of 
true feeding ? 

" It is possible that the system when developed 
may be in many cases a vicarious thing. Certain 
classes of machines may be alone fertile, while the 
rest discharge other functions in the mechanical 
system, just as the great majority of ants and bees 
have nothing to do with the continuation of their 
species, but get food and store it, without thought 
of breeding. One cannot expect the parallel to be 
complete or nearly so ; certainly not now, and 
probably never ; but is there not enough analogy 
existing at the present moment, to make us feel 
seriously uneasy about the future, and to render 
it our duty to check the evil while we can still 
do so ? Machines can within certain limits beget 
machines of any class, no matter how different to 
themselves. Every class of machines will probably 
have its special mechanical breeders, and all the 
higher ones will owe their existence to a large 
number of parents and not to two only. 

2S4 



Book of the Machines 

" We are misled by considering any complicated 
machine as a single thing ; in truth it is a city or 
society, each member of which was bred truly 
after its kind. We see a machine as a whole, we 
call it by a name and individualise it ; we look at 
our own limbs, and know that the combination 
forms an individual which springs from a single 
centre of reproductive action ; we therefore assume 
that there can be no reproductive action which 
does not arise from a single centre ; but this assump- 
tion is unscientific, and the bare fact that no vapour- 
engine was ever made entirely by another, or two 
others, of its own kind, is not sufficient to warrant 
us in saying that vapour-engines have no repro- 
ductive system. The truth is that each part of 
every vapour-engine is bred by its own special 
breeders, whose function it is to breed that part, 
and that only, while the combination of the parts 
into a whole forms another department of the 
mechanical reproductive system, which is at present 
exceedingly complex and difficult to see in its 
entirety. 

" Complex now, but how much simpler and more 
intelligibly organised may it not become in another 
hundred thousand years ? or in twenty thousand ? 
For man at present believes that his interest lies 
in that direction ; he spends an incalculable amount 
of labour and time and thought in making machines 
breed always better and better ; he has already 
succeeded in effecting much that at one time ap- 
peared impossible, and there seem no limits to the 



Erewhon 



results of accumulated improvements if they are 
allowed to descend with modification from genera- 
tion to generation. It must always be remembered 
that man's body is what it is through having been 
moulded into its present shape by the chances and 
changes of many millions of years, but that his 
organisation never advanced with anything like the 
rapidity with which that of the machines is advanc- 
ing. This is the most alarming feature in the case, 
and I must be pardoned for insisting on it so 
frequently." 



*flB 



CHAPTER XXV 

THE MACHINES — concluded 

Here followed a very long and untranslatable 
digression about the different races and families 
of the then existing machines. The writer at- 
tempted to support his theory by pointing out 
the similarities existing between many machines of 
a widely different character, which served to show 
descent from a common ancestor. He divided 
machines into their genera, subgenera, species, 
varieties, subvarieties, and so forth. He proved 
the existence of connecting links between machines 
that seemed to have very little in common, and 
showed that many more such links had existed, 
but had now perished. He pointed out tendencies 
to reversion, and the presence of rudimentary 
organs which existed in many machines feebly de- 
veloped and perfectly useless, yet serving to mark 
descent from an ancestor to whom the function 
was actually useful. 

I left the translation of this part of the treatise, 
which, by the way, was far longer than all that 
I have given here, for a later opportunity. Unfor- 
tunately, I left Erewhon before I could return to 
the subject; and though I saved my translation 
and other papers at the hazard of my life, 1 was 

257 R 



Erewhon 



obliged to sacrifice the original work. It went to 
my heart to do so ; but I thus gained ten minutes 
of invaluable time, without which both Arowhena 
and myself must have certainly perished. 

I remember one incident which bears upon this 
part of the treatise. The gentleman who gave it 
to me had asked to see my tobacco-pipe ; he 
examined it carefully, and when he came to the 
little protuberance at the bottom of the bowl he 
seemed much delighted, and exclaimed that it must 
be rudimentary. I asked him what he meant. 

" Sir," he answered, " this organ is identical with 
the rim at the bottom of a cup ; it is but another 
form of the same function. Its purpose must have 
been to keep the heat of the pipe from marking the 
table upon which it rested. You would find, if you 
were to look up the history of tobacco-pipes, that 
in early specimens this protuberance was of a dif- 
ferent shape to what it is now. It will have been 
broad at the bottom, and flat, so that while the pipe 
was being smoked the bowl might rest upon the 
table without marking it. Use and disuse must 
have come into play and reduced the function to 
its present rudimentary condition. I should not 
be surprised, sir," he continued, "if, in the course 
of time, it were to become modified still farther, 
and to assume the form of an ornamental leaf or 
scroll, or even a butterfly, while, in some cases, it 
will become extinct." 

On my return to England, I looked up the point, 
and found that my friend was right. 

2«« 



Book of the Machines 

Returning, however, to the treatise, my transla- 
tion recommences as follows : — 

" May we not fancy that if, in the remotest geo- 
logical period, some early form of vegetable life 
had been endowed with the power of reflecting 
upon the dawning life of animals which was 
coming into existence alongside of its own, it 
would have thought itself exceedingly acute if it 
had surmised that animals would one day become 
real vegetables ? Yet would this be more mistaken 
than it would be on our part to imagine that be- 
cause the life of machines is a very different one 
to our own, there is therefore no higher possible 
development of life than ours ; or that because 
mechanical life is a very different thing from ours, 
therefore that it is not life at all ? 

" But I have heard it said, ' granted that this is 
so, and that the vapour-engine has a strength of 
its own, surely no one will say that it has a will 
of its own ? ' Alas ! if we look more closely, we 
shall find that this does not make against the sup- 
position that the vapour-engine is one of the germs 
of a new phase of life. What is there in this whole 
world, or in the worlds beyond it, which has a 
will of its own ? The Unknown and Unknowable 
only ! 

" A man is the resultant and exponent of all the 
forces that have been brought to bear upon him, 
whether before his birth or afterwards. His action 
at any moment depends solely upon his constitu- 
tion, and on the intensity and direction of the 

259 



Erewhon 



various agencies to which he is, and has been, sub- 
jected. Some of these will counteract each other ; 
but as he is by nature, and as he has been acted 
on, and is now acted on from without, so will he 
do, as certainly and regularly as though he were a 
machine. 

" We do not generally admit this, because we do 
not know the whole nature of any one, nor the 
whole of the forces that act upon him. We see 
but a part, and being thus unable to generalise 
human conduct, except very roughly, we deny that 
it is subject to any fixed laws at all, and ascribe 
much both of a man's character and actions to 
chance, or luck, or fortune ; but these are only 
words whereby we escape the admission of our 
own ignorance ; and a little reflection will teach us 
that the most daring flight of the imagination or 
the most subtle exercise of the reason is as much 
the thing that must arise, and the only thing that 
can by any possibility arise, at the moment of its 
arising, as the falling of a dead leaf when the wind 
shakes it from the tree. 

" For the future depends upon the present, and 
the present (whose existence is only one of those 
minor compromises of which human life is full — 
for it lives only on sufferance of the past and 
future) depends upon the past, and the past is 
unalterable. The only reason why we cannot see 
the future as plainly as the past, is because we 
know too little of the actual past and actual pre- 
sent ; these things are too great for us, otherwise 

260 



Book of the Machines 

the future, in its minutest details, would lie spread 
out before our eyes, and we should lose our sense 
of time present by reason of the clearness with 
which we should see the past and future ; perhaps 
we should not be even able to distinguish time at 
all ; but that is foreign. What we do know is, that 
the more the past and present are known, the more 
the future can be predicted ; and that no one 
dreams of doubting the fixity of the future in cases 
where he is fully cognisant of both past and pre- 
sent, and has had experience of the consequences 
that followed from such a past and such a present 
on previous occasions. He perfectly well knows 
what will happen, and will stake his whole fortune 
thereon. 

" And this is a great blessing ; for it is the foun- 
dation on which morality and science are built. 
The assurance that the future is no arbitrary and 
changeable thing, but that like futures will in- 
variably follow like presents, is the groundwork 
on which we lay all our plans — the faith on which 
we do every conscious action of our lives. If this 
were not so we should be without a guide ; we 
should have no confidence in acting, and hence 
we should never act, for there would be no know- 
ing that the results which will follow now will be 
the same as those which followed before. 

" Who would plough or sow if he disbelieved in 

the fixity of the future ? Who would throw water 

on a blazing house if the action of water upon fire 

were uncertain ? Men will only do their utmost 

261 



Erewhon 



when they feel certain that the future will discover 
itself against them if their utmost has not been 
done. The feeling of such a certainty is a con- 
stituent part of the sum of the forces at work upon 
them, and will act most powerfully on the best and 
most moral men. Those who are most firmly per- 
suaded that the future is immutably bound up with 
the present in which their work is lying, will best 
husband their present, and till it with the greatest 
care. The future must be a lottery to those who 
think that the same combinations can sometimes 
precede one set of results, and sometimes another. 
If their belief is sincere they will speculate instead 
of working : these ought to be the immoral men ; 
the others have the strongest spur to exertion and 
morality, if their belief is a living one. 

" The bearing of all this upon the machines is 
not immediately apparent, but will become so pre- 
sently. In the meantime I must deal with friends 
who tell me that, though the future is fixed as 
regards inorganic matter, and in some respects 
with regard to man, yet that there are many ways 
in which it cannot be considered as fixed. Thus, 
they say that fire applied to dry shavings, and well 
fed with oxygen gas, will always produce a blaze, 
but that a coward brought into contact with a 
terrifying object will not always result in a man 
running away. Nevertheless, if there be two 
cowards perfectly similar in every respect, and 
if they be subjected in a perfectly similar way to 

two terrifying agents, which are themselves per- 

262 



I 



Book of the Machines 

fectly similar, there are few who will not expect a 
perfect similarity in the running away, even though 
a thousand years intervene between the original 
combination and its being repeated. 

" The apparently greater regularity in the results 
of chemical than of human combinations arises 
from our inability to perceive the subtle differences 
in human combinations — combinations which are 
never identically repeated. Fire we know, and 
shavings we know, but no two men ever were or 
ever will be exactly alike ; and the smallest differ- 
ence may change the whole conditions of the 
problem. Our registry of results must be infinite 
before we could arrive at a full forecast of future 
combinations ; the wonder is that there is as much 
certainty concerning human action as there is ; and 
assuredly the older we grow the more certain we 
feel as to what such and such a kind of person will 
do in given circumstances ; but this could never 
be the case unless human conduct were under the 
influence of laws, with the working of which we 
become more and more familiar through experience. 

" If the above is sound, it follows that the regu- 
larity with which machinery acts is no proof of the 
absence of vitality, or at least of germs which may 
be developed into a new phase of life. At first 
sight it would indeed appear that a vapour-engine 
cannot help going when set upon a line of rails 
with the steam up and the machinery in full play ; 
whereas the man whose business it is to drive it 

can help doing so at any moment that he pleases ; 

263 



Erewhon 



so that the first has no spontaneity, and is not 
possessed of any sort of free will, while the second 
has and is. 

"This is true up to a certain point; the driver 
can stop the engine at any moment that he pleases, 
but he can only please to do so at certain points 
which have been fixed for him by others, or in the 
case of unexpected obstructions which force him 
to please to do so. His pleasure is not spon- 
taneous ; there is an unseen choir of influences 
around him, which make it impossible for him to 
act in any other way than one. It is known before- 
hand how much strength must be given to these 
influences, just as it is known beforehand how 
much coal and water are necessary for the vapour- 
engine itself ; and curiously enough it will be found 
that the influences brought to bear upon the driver 
are of the same kind as those brought to bear upon 
the engine — that is to say, food and warmth. The 
driver is obedient to his masters, because he gets 
food and warmth from them, and if these are with- 
held or given in insufficient quantities he will cease 
to drive ; in like manner the engine will cease to 
work if it is insufficiently fed. The only difference 
is, that the man is conscious about his wants, and 
the engine (beyond refusing to work) does not 
S'f'.em to be so ; but this is temporary, and has been 
dealt with above. 

"Accordingly, the requisite strength being given 

to the motives that are to drive the driver, there has 

never, or hardly ever, been an instance of a man 

264 



Book of the Machines 

stopping his engine through wantonness. But 
such a case might occur ; yes, and it might occur 
that the engine should break down : but if the 
train is stopped from some trivial motive it will 
be found either that the strength of the necessary 
influences has been miscalculated, or that the man 
has been miscalculated, in the same way as an 
engine may break down from an unsuspected flaw ; 
but even in such a case there will have been no 
spontaneity ; the action will have had its true 
parental causes : spontaneity is only a term for 
man's ignorance of the gods. 

" Is there, then, no spontaneity on the part of 
those who drive the driver ? " 

Here followed an obscure argument upon this 
subject, which I have thought it best to omit. The 
writer resumes : — " After all then it comes to this, 
that the difference between the life of a man and 
that of a machine is one rather of degree than of 
kind, though differences in kind are not wanting. 
An animal has more provision for emergency than 
a machine. The machine is less versatile ; its 
range of action is narrow ; its strength and accu- 
racy in its own sphere are superhuman, but it 
shows badly in a dilemma ; sometimes when its 
normal action is disturbed, it will lose its head, 
and go from bad to worse like a lunatic in a 
raging frenzy : but here, again, we are met by the 
same consideration as before, namely, that the 
machines are still in their infancy ; they are mere 

skeletons without muscles and flesh. 

265 



Erewhon 



" For how many emergencies is an oyster 
adapted ? For as many as are likely to happen 
to it, and no more. So are the machines ; and so 
is man himself. The list of casualties that daily 
occur to man through his want of adaptability is 
probably as great as that occurring to the machines; 
and every day gives them some greater provision 
for the unforeseen. Let any one examine the 
wonderful self-regulating and self-adjusting con- 
trivances which are now incorporated with the 
vapour-engine, let him watch the way in which it 
supplies itself with oil ; in which it indicates its 
wants to those who tend it ; in which, by the 
governor, it regulates its application of its own 
strength ; let him look at that store-house of 
inertia and momentum the fly-wheel, or at the 
buffers on a railway carriage ; let him see how 
those improvements are being selected for perpe- 
tuity which contain provision against the emer- 
gencies that may arise to harass the machines, and 
then let him think of a hundred thousand years, 
and the accumulated progress which they will 
bring unless man can be awakened to a sense of 
his situation, and of the doom which he is pre- 
paring for himself.^ 

^ Since my return to England, I have been told that those who are 
conversant about machines use many terms concerning them which 
show that their vitality is here recognised, and that a collection of ex- 
pressions in use among those who attend on steam engines would be 
no less startling than instructive. I am also informed, that almost all 
machines have their own tricks and idiosyncrasies ; that they know 
their drivers and keepers ; and that tliey will play pranks upon a 

266 



Book of the Machines 

"The misery is that man has been blind so long 
already. In his reliance upon the use of steam he 
has been betrayed into increasing and multiplying. 
To withdraw steam power suddenly will not have 
the effect of reducing us to the state in which we 
were before its introduction ; there will be a general 
break-up and time of anarchy such as has never 
been known ; it will be as though our population 
were suddenly doubled, with no additional means 
of feeding the increased number. The air we 
breathe is hardly more necessary for our animal 
life than the use of any machine, on the strength 
of which we have increased our numbers, is to our 
civilisation ; it is the machines which act upon 
man and make him man, as much as man who 
has acted upon and made the machines ; but we 
must choose between the alternative of undergoing 
much present suffering, or seeing ourselves gradu- 
ally superseded by our own creatures, till we rank 
no higher in comparison with them, than the beasts 
of the field with ourselves. 

" Herein lies our danger. For many seem in- 
clined to acquiesce in so dishonourable a future. 
They say that although man should become to the 
machines what the horse and dog are to us, yet 
that he will continue to exist, and will probably 
be better off in a state of domestication under the 

stranger. It is my intention, on a future occasion, to bring together 
examples both of the expressions in common use among mechanicians, 
and of any extraordinary exhibitions of mechanical sagacity and 
eccentricity that I can meet with — not as believing in the Ercwhonian 
Professor's theory, but from the interest of the subject. 

267 



Erewhon 



beneficent rule of the machines than in his present 
wild condition. We treat our domestic animals 
with much kindness. We give them whatever we 
believe to be the best for them ; and there can be 
no doubt that our use of meat has increased their 
happiness rather than detracted from it. In like 
manner there is reason to hope that the machines 
will use us kindly, for their existence will be in a 
great measure dependent upon ours ; they will rule 
us with a rod of iron, but they will not eat us ; they 
will not only require our services in the reproduc- 
tion and education of their young, but also in waiting 
upon them as servants ; in gathering food for them, 
and feeding them ; in restoring them to health 
when they are sick; and in either burying their 
dead or working up their deceased members into 
new forms of mechanical existence. 

"The very nature of the motive power which 
works the advancement of the machines precludes 
the possibility of man's life being rendered miser- 
able as well as enslaved. Slaves are tolerably 
happy if they have good masters, and the revolu- 
tion will not occur in our time, nor hardly in ten 
thousand years, or ten times that. Is it wise to be 
uneasy about a contingency which is so remote ? 
Man is not a sentimental animal where his material 
interests are concerned, and though here and there 
some ardent soul may look upon himself and curse 
his fate that he was not born a vapour-engine, yet 
the mass of mankind will acquiesce in any arrange- 
ment which gives them better food and clothing 

268 



Book of the Machines 

at a cheaper rate, and will refrain from yielding 
to unreasonable jealousy merely because there are 
other destinies more glorious than their own. 

"The power of custom is enormous, and so 
gradual will be the change, that man's sense of 
what is due to himself will be at no time rudely 
shocked ; our bondage will steal upon us noise- 
lessly and by imperceptible approaches ; nor will 
there ever be such a clashing of desires between 
man and the machines as will lead to an encounter 
between them. Among themselves the machines will 
war eternally, but they will still require man as the 
being through whose agency the struggle will be 
principally conducted. In point of fact there is 
no occasion for anxiety about the future happiness 
of man so long as he continues to be in any way 
profitable to the machines ; he may become the 
inferior race, but he will be infinitely better off 
than he is now. Is it not then both absurd and 
unreasonable to be envious of our benefactors ? 
And should we not be guilty of consummate folly 
if we were to reject^ advantages which we cannot 
obtain otherwise, merely because they involve a 
greater gain to others than to ourselves ? 

"With those who can argue in this way I have 

nothing in common. I shrink with as much horror 

from believing that my race can ever be superseded 

or surpassed, as I should do from believing that 

even at the remotest period my ancestors were 

other than human beings. Could I believe that 

ten hundred thousand years ago a single one of 

269 



Erewhon 



my ancestors was another kind of being to myself, 
I should lose all self-respect, and take no further 
pleasure or interest in life. I have the same feel- 
ing with regard to my descendants, and believe it 
to be one that will be felt so generally that the 
country will resolve upon putting an immediate 
stop to all further mechanical progress, and upon 
destroying all improvements that have been made 
for the last three hundred years I would not urge 
more than this. We may trust ourselves to deal 
with those that remain, and though I should prefei 
to have seen the destruction include another two 
hundred years, I am aware of the necessity for 
compromising, and would so far sacrifice my own 
individual convictions as to be content with three 
hundred. Less than this will be insufficient." 

This was the conclusion of the attack which led 
to the destruction of machinery throughout Ere- 
whon. There was only one serious attempt to 
answer it. Its author said that machines were to 
be regarded as a part of man's own physical nature, 
being really nothing but extra-corporeal limbs. 
Man, he said, was a machinate mammal. The 
lower animals keep all their limbs at home in their 
own bodies, but many of man's are loose, and lie 
about detached, now here and now there, in various 
parts of the world — some being kept always handy 
for contingent use, and others being occasionally 
hundreds of miles away. A machine is merely a 
supplementary limb ; this is the be all and end all 

of machinery. We do not use our own limbs other 

270 



Book of the Machines 

than as machines ; and a leg is only a much better 
wooden leg than any one can manufacture. 

" Observe a man digging with a spade ; his right 
fore-arm has become artificially lengthened, and 
his hand has become a joint. The handle of the 
spade is like the knob at the end of the humerus ; 
the shaft is the additional bone, and the oblong 
iron plate is the new form of the hand which 
enables its possessor to disturb the earth in a way 
to which his original hand was unequal. Having 
thus modified himself, not as other animals are 
modified, by circumstances over which they have 
had not even the appearance of control, but having, 
as it were, taken forethought and added a cubit to 
his stature, civilisation began to dawn upon the 
race, the social good offices, the genial companion- 
ship of friends, the art of unreason, and all those 
habits of mind which most elevate man above the 
lower animals, in the course oi time ensued. 

"Thus civilisation and mechanical progress ad- 
vanced hand in hand, each developing and being 
developed by the other, the earliest accidental use 
of the stick having set the ball rolling, and the 
prospect of advantage keeping it in motion. In 
fact, machines are to be regarded as the mode of 
development by which human organism is now 
especially advancing, every past invention being 
an addition to the resources of the human body. 
Even community of limbs is thus rendered possible 
to those who have so much community of soul as 

to own money enough to pay a railway fare ; for a 

271 



Erewhon 



train is only a seven-leagued foot that five hundred 
may own at once." 

The one serious danger which this writer appre- 
hended was that the machines would so equalise 
men's powers, and so lessen the severity of com- 
petition, that many persons of inferior physique 
would escape detection and transmit their inferi- 
ority to their descendants. He feared that the 
removal of the present pressure might cause a 
degeneracy of the human race, and indeed that 
the whole body might become purely rudimentary, 
the man himself being nothing but soul and 
mechanism, an intelligent but passionless principle 
of mechanical action. 

" How greatly," he wrote, " do we not now live 
with our external limbs ? We vary our physique 
with the seasons, with age, with advancing or 
decreasing wealth. If it is wet we are furnished 
with an organ commonly called an umbrella, and 
which is designed for the purpose of protecting our 
clothes or our skins from the injurious effects of 
rain. Man has now many extra-corporeal mem- 
bers, which are of more importance to him than 
a good deal of his hair, or at any rate than his 
whiskers. His memory goes in his pocket-book. 
He becomes more and more complex as he grows 
older ; he will then be seen with see-engines, or 
perhaps with artificial teeth and hair : if he be a 
really well-developed specimen of his race, he will 
be furnished with a large box upon wheels, two 

horses, and a coachman." 

272 



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Book of the Machines 

It was this writer who originated the custom of 
classifying men by their horse-power, and who 
divided them into genera, species, varieties, and 
subvarieties, giving them names from the hypo- 
thetical language which expressed the number of 
limbs which they could command at any moment. 
He showed that men became more highly and 
delicately organised the more nearly they ap- 
proached the summit of opulence, and that none 
but millionaires possessed the full complement of 
limbs with which mankind could become incor- 
porate. 

"Those mighty organisms," he continued, "our 
leading bankers and merchants, speak to their con- 
geners through the length and breadth of the land 
in a second of time ; their rich and subtle souls 
can defy all material impediment, whereas the 
souls of the poor are clogged and hampered by 
matter, which sticks fast about them as treacle to 
the wings of a fly, or as one struggling in a quick- 
sand : their dull ears must take days or weeks to 
hear what another would tell them from a distance, 
instead of hearing it in a second as is done by the 
more highly organised classes. Who shall deny 
that one who can tack on a special train to his 
identity, and go wheresoever he will whensoever 
he pleases, is more highly organised than he who, 
should he wish for the same power, might wish for 
the wings of a bird with an equal chance of getting 
them ; and whose legs are his only means of loco- 
motion ? That old philosophic enemy, matter, the 

273 s 



Erewhon 



-1 



inherently and essentially evil, still hangs about the 
neck of the poor and strangles him : but to the 
rich, matter is immaterial ; the elaborate organisa- 
tion of his extra-corporeal system has freed his 
soul. 

" This is the secret of the homage which we see 
rich men receive from those who are poorer than 
themselves : it would be a grave error to suppose 
that this deference proceeds from motives which 
we need be ashamed of : it is the natural respect 
which all living creatures pay to those whom they 
recognise as higher than themselves in the scale of 
animal life, and is analogous to the veneration 
which a dog feels for man. Among savage races it 
is deemed highly honourable to be the possessor of 
a gun, and throughout all known time there has 
been a feeling that those who are worth most are 
the worthiest." 

And so he went on at considerable length, 
attempting to show what changes in the distribu- 
tion of animal and vegetable life throughout the 
kingdom had been caused by this and that of 
man's inventions, and in what way each was con- 
nected with the moral and intellectual development 
of the human species : he even allotted to some the 
share which they had had in the creation and modi- 
fication of man's body, and that which they would 
hereafter have in its destruction ; but the other 
writer was considered to have the best of it, and 
in the end succeeded in destroying all the inven- 
tions that had been discovered for the preceding 

274 



Book of the Machines 

271 years, a period which was agreed upon by all 
parties after several years of wrangling as to whether 
a certain kind of mangle which was much in use 
among washerwomen should be saved or no. It 
was at last ruled to be dangerous, and was just 
excluded by the limit of 271 years. Then came 
the reactionary civil wars which nearly ruined the 
country, but which it would be beyond my present 
scope to describe. 



275 



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CHAPTER XXVI 

THE VIEWS OF AN EREWHONIAN PROPHET 
CONCERNING THE RIGHTS OF ANIMALS 

It will be seen from the foregoing chapters that 
the Erewhonians are a meek and long-suffering 
people, easily led by the nose, and quick to offer 
up common sense at the shrine of logic, when a 
philosopher arises among them, who carries them 
away through his reputation for especial learning, 
or by convincing them that their existing institu- 
tions are not based on the strictest principles of 
morality. 

The series of revolutions on which I shall now 
briefly touch shows this even more plainly than the 
way (already dealt with) in which at a later date 
they cut their throats in the matter of machinery ; 
for if the second of the two reformers of whom I 
am about to speak had had his way — or rather the 
way that he professed to have — the whole race 
would have died of starvation within a twelve- 
month. Happily common sense, though she is by 
nature the gentlest creature living, when she feels 
the knife at her throat, is apt to develop unexpected 
powers of resistance, and to send doctrinaires fly- 
ing, even when they have bound her down and 
think they have her at their mercy. What hap- 

276 



Rights of Animals 

pened, so far as I could collect it from the best 
authorities, was as follows : — 

Some two thousand five hundred years ago the 
Erewhonians were still uncivilised, and lived by 
hunting, fishing, a rude system of agriculture, 
and plundering such few other nations as they 
had not yet completely conquered. They had no 
schools or systems of philosophy, but by a kind of 
dog-knowledge did that which was right in their 
own eyes and in those of their neighbours ; the 
common sense, therefore, of the public being as yet 
unvitiated, crime and disease were looked upon 
much as they are in other countries. 

But with the gradual advance of civilisation and 
increase in material prosperity, people began to 
ask questions about things that they had hitherto 
taken as matters of course, and one old gentleman, 
who had great influence over them by reason of the 
sanctity of his life, and his supposed inspiration by 
an unseen power, whose existence was now begin- 
ning to be felt, took it into his head to disquiet 
himself about the rights of animals — a question 
that so far had disturbed nobody. 

All prophets are more or less fussy, and this old 
gentleman seems to have been one of the more 
fussy ones. Being maintained at the public ex- 
pense, he had ample leisure, and not content with 
limiting his attention to the rights of animals, he 
wanted to reduce right and wrong to rules, to 
consider the foundations of duty and of good and 

evil, and otherwise to put all sorts of matters on a 

277 



Erewhon 



logical basis, which people whose time is money 
are content to accept on no basis at all. 

As a matter of course, the basis on which he 
decided that duty could alone rest was one that 
afforded no standing-room for many of the old- 
established habits of the people. These, he assured 
them, were all wrong, and whenever any one ven- 
tured to differ from him, he referred the matter to 
the unseen power with which he alone was in direct 
communication, and the unseen power invariably 
assured him that he was right. As regards the 
rights of animals he taught as follows : — 

" You know," he said, " how wicked it is of you 
to kill one another. Once upon a time your fore- 
fathers made no scruple about not only killing, but 
also eating their relations. No one would now go 
back to such detestable practices, for it is notorious 
that we have lived much more happily since they 
were abandoned. From this increased prosperity 
we may confidently deduce the maxim that we 
should not kill and eat our fellow-creatures. I 
have consulted the higher power by whom you 
know that I am inspired, and he has assured me 
that this conclusion is irrefragable. 

" Now it cannot be denied that sheep, cattle, 

deer, birds, and fishes are our fellow-creatures. 

They differ from us in some respects, but those 

in which they differ are few and secondary, while 

those that they have in common with us are many 

and essential. My friends, if it was wrong of you 

to kill and eat your fellow-men, it is wrong also to 

278 



1 



Rights of Animals 

kill and eat fish, flesh, and fowl. Birds, beasts, and 
fishes, have as full a right to live as long as they 
can unmolested by man, as man has to live un- 
molested by his neighbours. These words, let me 
again assure you, are not mine, but those of the 
higher power which inspires me. 

" I grant," he continued, " that animals molest 
one another, and that some of them go so far as to 
molest man, but I have yet to learn that we should 
model our conduct on that of the lower animals. 
We should endeavour, rather, to instruct them, and 
bring them to a better mind. To kill a tiger, for 
example, who has lived on the flesh of men and 
women whom he has killed, is to reduce ourselves 
to the level of the tiger, and is unworthy of people 
who seek to be guided by the highest principles in 
all, both their thoughts and actions. 

" The unseen power who has revealed himself to 
me alone among you, has told me to tell you that 
you ought by this time to have outgrown the bar- 
barous habits of your ancestors. If, as you believe, 
you know better than they, you should do better. 
He commands you, therefore, to refrain from killing 
any living being for the sake of eating it. The 
only animal food that you may eat, is the flesh 
of any birds, beasts, or fishes that you may come 
upon as having died a natural death, or any 
that may have been born prematurely, or so 
deformed that it is a mercy to put them out of 
their pain ; you may also eat all such animals as 

have committed suicide. As regards vegetables you 

279 



Erewhon 



may eat all those that will let you eat them with 
impunity." 

So wisely and so well did the old prophet 
argue, and so terrible were the threats he hurled 
at those who should disobey him, that in the 
end he carried the more highly educated part of 
the people with him, and presently the poorer 
classes followed suit, or professed to do so. 
Having seen the triumph of his principles, he was 
gathered to his fathers, and no doubt entered 
at once into full communion with that unseen 
power whose favour he had already so pre- 
eminently enjoyed. 

He had not, however, been dead very long, 

before some of his more ardent disciples took it 

upon them to better the instruction of their master. 

The old prophet had allowed the use of eggs and 

milk, but his disciples decided that to eat a fresh 

egg was to destroy a potential chicken, and that 

this came to much the same as murdering a live 

one. Stale eggs, if it was quite certain that they 

were too far gone to be able to be hatched, were 

grudgingly permitted, but all eggs offered for sale 

had to be submitted to an inspector, who, on being 

satisfied that they were addled, would label them 

" Laid not less than three months " from the date, 

whatever it might happen to be. These eggs, I 

need hardly say, were only used in puddings, and 

as a medicine in certain cases where an emetic was 

urgently required. Milk was forbidden inasmuch 

as it could not be obtained without robbing some 

280 



Rights of Animals 

calf of its natural sustenance, and thus endangering 
its life. 

It will be easily believed that at first there were 
many who gave the new rules outward observ- 
ance, but embraced every opportunity of indulging 
secretly in those flesh-pots to which they had been 
accustomed. It was found that animals were con- 
tinually dying natural deaths under more or less 
suspicious circumstances. Suicidal mania, again, 
which had hitherto been confined exclusively to 
donkies, became alarmingly prevalent even among 
such for the most part self-respecting creatures as 
sheep and cattle. It was astonishing how some 
of these unfortunate animals would scent out a 
butcher's knife if there was one within a mile of 
them, and run right up against it if the butcher did 
not get it out of their way in time. 

Dogs, again, that had been quite law-abiding as 
regards domestic poultry, tame rabbits, sucking 
pigs, or sheep and lambs, suddenly took to break- 
ing beyond the control of their masters, and 
kiUing anything that they were told not to touch. 
It was held that any animal killed by a dog had 
died a natural death, for it was the dog's nature 
to kill things, and he had only refrained from 
molesting farmyard creatures hitherto because his 
nature had been tampered with. Unfortunately 
the more these unruly tendencies became de- 
veloped, the more the common people seemed 
to delight in breeding the very animals that would 
put temptation in the dog's way. There is little 

2S< 



Erewhon 



t 



doubt, in fact, that they were deliberately evading 
the law ; but whether this was so or no they sold 
or ate everything their dogs had killed. 

Evasion was more difficult in the case of the 
larger animals, for the magistrates could not wink 
at all the pretended suicides of pigs, sheep, and 
cattle that were brought before them. Sometimes 
they had to convict, and a few convictions had 
a very terrorising effect — whereas in the case of 
animals killed by a dog, the marks of the dog's 
teeth could be seen, and it was practically im- 
possible to prove malice on the part of the owner 
of the dog. 

Another fertile source of disobedience to the 
law was furnished by a decision of one of the 
judges that raised a great outcry among the more 
fervent disciples of the old prophet. The judge 
held that it was lawful to kill any animal in self- 
defence, and that such conduct was so natural 
on the part of a man who found himself attacked, 
that the attacking creature should be held to have 
died a natural death. The High Vegetarians had 
indeed good reason to be alarmed, for hardly had 
this decision become generally known before a 
number of animals, hitherto harmless, took to at- 
tacking their owners with such ferocity, that it 
became necessary to put them to a natural death. 
Again, it was quite common at that time to see 
the carcase of a calf, lamb, or kid exposed for 
sale with a label from the inspector certifying 

that it had been killed in self-defence. Sometimes 

282 



Rights of Animals 

even the carcase of a lamb or calf was exposed 
as "warranted still-born," when it presented every 
appearance of having enjoyed at least a month 
of life. 

As for the flesh of animals that had bona fide 
died a natural death, the permission to eat it 
was nugatory, for it was generally eaten by some 
other animal before man got hold of it ; or failing 
this it was often poisonous, so that practically 
people were forced to evade the law by some of 
the means above spoken of, or to become vege- 
tarians. This last alternative was so little to the 
taste of the Erewhonians, that the laws against 
killing animals were faUing into desuetude, and 
would very likely have been repealed, but for 
the breaking out of a pestilence, which was as- 
cribed by the priests and prophets of the day 
to the lawlessness of the people in the matter of 
eating forbidden flesh. On this, there was a re- 
action ; stringent laws were passed, forbidding 
the use of meat in any form or shape, and per- 
mitting no food but grain, fruits, and vegetables 
to be sold in shops and markets. These laws 
were enacted about two hundred years after the 
death of the old prophet who had first unsettled 
people's minds about the rights of animals ; but 
they had hardly been passed before people again 
began to break them. 

I was told that the most painful consequence 
of all this folly did not lie in the fact that law- 
abiding people had to go without animal food 

283 



Erewhon 

— many nations do this and seem none the worse," 
and even in flesh-eating countries such as Italy, 
Spain, and Greece, the poor seldom see meat from 
year's end to year's end. The mischief lay in 
the jar which undue prohibition gave to the con- 
sciences of all but those who were strong enough 
to know that though conscience as a rule boons, 
it can also bane. The awakened conscience of 
an individual will often lead him to do things in 
haste that he had better have left undone, but 
the conscience of a nation awakened by a respect- 
able old gentleman who has an unseen power up 
his sleeve will pave hell with a vengeance. 

Young people were told that it was a sin to 
do what their fathers had done unhurt for cen- 
turies ; those, moreover, who preached to them 
about the enormity of eating meat, were an un- 
attractive academic folk, and though they over- 
awed all but the bolder youths, there were few 
who did not in their hearts dislike them. However 
much the young person might be shielded, he soon 
got to know that men and women of the world — 
often far nicer people than the prophets who 
preached abstention — continually spoke sneer- 
ingly of the new doctrinaire laws, and were be- 
lieved to set them aside in secret, though they 
dared not do so openly. Small wonder, then, that 
the more human among the student classes were 
provoked by the touch-not, taste-not, handle-not 
precepts of their rulers, into questioning much that 

they would otherwise have unhesitatingly accepted. 

284 



Rights of Animals 

One sad story is on record about a young man 
of promising amiable disposition, but cursed with 
more conscience than brains, who had been told 
by his doctor (for as I have above said disease 
was not yet held to be criminal) that he ought 
to eat meat, law or no law. He was much shocked 
and for some time refused to comply with what 
he deemed the unrighteous advice given him by 
his doctor ; at last, however, finding that he grew 
weaker and weaker, he stole secretly on a dark 
night into one of those dens in which meat was 
surreptitiously sold, and bought a pound of prime 
steak. He took it home, cooked it in his bedroom 
when every one in the house had gone to rest, 
ate it, and though he could hardly sleep for re- 
morse and shame, felt so much better next 
morning that he hardly knew himself. 

Three or four days later, he again found him- 
self irresistibly drawn to this same den. Again he 
bought a pound of steak, again he cooked and ate 
it, and again, in spite of much mental torture, on 
the following morning felt himself a different man. 
To cut the story short, though he never went be- 
yond the bounds of moderation, it preyed upon his 
mind that he should be drifting, as he certainly was, 
into the ranks of the habitual law-breakers. 

All the time his health kept on improving, and 

though he felt sure that he owed this to the 

beefsteaks, the better he became in body, the 

more his conscience gave him no rest ; two voices 

were for ever ringing in his ears — the one saying, 

28s 



Erewhon 



I 



" I am Common Sense and Nature ; heed me, and 
I will reward you as I rewarded your fathers 
before you." But the other voice said : " Let 
not that plausible spirit lure you to your ruin. 
I am Duty ; heed me, and I will reward you as 
I rewarded your fathers before you." 

Sometimes he even seemed to see the faces of 
the speakers. Common Sense looked so easy, 
genial, and serene, so frank and fearless, that 
do what he might he could not mistrust her ; 
but as he was on the point of following her, he 
would be checked by the austere face of Duty, so 
grave, but yet so kindly ; and it cut him to the heart 
that from time to time he should see her turn pity- 
ing away from him as he followed after her rival. 

The poor boy continually thought of the better 

class of his fellow-students, and tried to model his 

conduct on what he thought was theirs. "They," 

he said to himself, " eat a beefsteak ? Never," But 

they most of them ate one now and again, unless it 

was a mutton chop that tempted them. And they 

used him for a model much as he did them. " He," 

they would say to themselves, " eat a mutton chop ? 

Never," One night, however, he was followed by one 

of the authorities, who was always prowling about in 

search of law-breakers, and was caught coming out 

of the den with half a shoulder of mutton concealed 

about his person. On this, even though he had not 

been put in prison, he would have been sent away 

with his prospects in life irretrievably ruined ; he 

therefore hanged himself as soon as he got home, 

286 



CHAPTER XXVII 

THE VIEWS OF AN EREWHONIAN PHILOSOPHER 
CONCERNING THE RIGHTS OF VEGETABLES 

Let me leave this unhappy story, and return to the 
course of events among the Erewhonians at large. 
No matter how many laws they passed increasing 
the severity of the punishments inflicted on those 
who ate meat in secret, the people found means of 
setting them aside as fast as they were made. At 
times, indeed, they would become almost obsolete, 
but when they were on the point of being repealed, 
some national disaster or the preaching of some 
fanatic would reawaken the conscience of the na- 
tion, and people were imprisoned by the thousand 
for illicitly selling and buying animal food. 

About six or seven hundred years, however, after 
the death of the old prophet, a philosopher ap- 
peared, who, though he did not claim to have any 
communication with an unseen power, laid down 
the law with as much confidence as if such a power 
had inspired him. Many think that this philosopher 
did not believe his own teaching, and, being in 
secret a great meat-eater, had no other end in view 
than reducing the prohibition against eating animal 
food to an absurdity, greater even than an Ere- 

whonian Puritan would be able to stand. 
387 



Erewhon 



Those who take this view hold that he knew how 
impossible it would be to get the nation to accept 
legislation that it held to be sinful ; he knew also 
how hopeless it would be to convince people that it 
was not wicked to kill a sheep and eat it, unless he 
could show them that they must either sin to a cer- 
tain extent, or die. He, therefore, it is believed, 
made the monstrous proposals of which I will now 
speak. 

He began by paying a tribute of profound respect 
to the old prophet, whose advocacy of the rights of 
animals, he admitted, had done much to soften the 
national character, and enlarge its views about the 
sanctity of life in general. But he urged that times 
had now changed ; the lesson of which the country 
had stood in need had been sufficiently learnt, while 
as regards vegetables much had become krown 
that was not even suspected formerly, and which, 
if the nation was to persevere in that strict ad- 
herence to the highest moral principles which had 
been the secret of its prosperity hitherto, must 
necessitate a radical change in its attitude towards 
them. 

It was indeed true that much was now known 

that had not been suspected formerly, for the 

people had had no foreign enemies, and, being both 

quick-witted and inquisitive into the mysteries of 

nature, had made extraordinary progress in all the 

many branches of art and science. In the chief 

Erewhonian museum I was shown a microscope 

of considerable power, that was ascribed by the 

288 



Rights of Vegetables 

authorities to a date much about that of the philo- 
sopher of whom I am now speaking, and was 
even supposed by some to have been the instru- 
ment with which he had actually worked. 

This philosopher was Professor of botany in the 
chief seat of learning then in Erewhon, and 
whether with the help of the microscope still pre- 
served, or with another, had arrived at a conclusion 
now universally accepted among ourselves — I mean, 
that all, both animals and plants, have had a com- 
mon ancestry, and that hence the second should be 
deemed as much alive as the first. He contended, 
therefore, that animals and plants were cousins, 
and would have been seen to be so, all along, if 
people had not made an arbitrary and unreasonable 
division between what they chose to call the animal 
and vegetable kingdoms. 

He declared, and demonstrated to the satisfaction 
of all those who were able to form an opinion upon 
the subject, that there is no difference appreciable 
either by the eye, or by any other test, between a 
germ that will develop into an oak, a vine, a rose, 
and one that (given its accustomed surroundings) 
will become a mouse, an elephant, or a man. 

He contended that the course of any germ's 

development was dictated by the habits of the 

germs from which it was descended, and of whose 

identity it had once formed part. If a germ found 

itself placed as the germs in the line of its ancestry 

were placed, it would do as its ancestors had done, 

and grow up into the same kind of organism as 

289 T 



Erewhon 



-1 



theirs. If it found the circumstances only a little 
different, it would make shift (successfully or un- 
successfully) to modify its development accord- 
ingly ; if the circumstances were widely different, it 
would die, probably without an effort at self-adap- 
tation. This, he argued, applied equally to the 
germs of plants and of animals. 

He therefore connected all, both animal and 
vegetable development, with intelligence, either 
spent and now unconscious, or still unspent and con- 
scious ; and in support of his view as regards vege- 
table life, he pointed to the way in which all plants 
have adapted themselves to their habitual environ- 
ment. Granting that vegetable intelligence at first 
sight appears to differ materially from animal, yet, 
he urged, it is like it in the one essential fact that 
though it has evidently busied itself about matters 
that are vital to the well-being of the organism that 
possesses it, it has never shown the slightest tendency 
to occupy itself with anything else. This, he in- 
sisted, is as great a proof of intelligence as any 
living being can give. 

" Plants," said he, " show no sign of interesting 
themselves in human affairs. We shall never get a 
rose to understand that five times seven are thirty- 
five, and there is no use in talking to an oak about 
fluctuations in the price of stocks. Hence we say 
that the oak and the rose are unintelligent, and on 
finding that they do not understand our business 
conclude that they do not understand their own. 

But what can a creature who talks in this way know 

290 



Rights of Vegetables 

about intelligence ? Which shows greater signs of 
intelligence ? He, or the rose and oak ? 

" And when we call plants stupid for not under- 
standing our business, how capable do we show 
ourselves of understanding theirs ? Can we form 
even the faintest conception of the way in which 
a seed from a rose-tree turns earth, air, warmth and 
water into a rose full-blown ? Where does it get 
its colour from? From the earth, air, &c.? Yes 
— but how ? Those petals of such ineffable texture 
— that hue that outvies the cheek of a child — that 
scent again ? Look at earth, air, and water — these 
are all the raw material that the rose has got to 
work with ; does it show any sign of want of intel- 
ligence in the alchemy with which it turns mud 
into rose-leaves ? What chemist can do anything 
comparable ? Why does no one try ? Simply be- 
cause every one knows that no human intelligence 
is equal to the task. We give it up. It is the rose's 
department ; let the rose attend to it — and be 
dubbed unintelligent because it baffles us by the 
miracles it works, and the unconcerned business- 
like way in which it works them. 

" See what pains, again, plants take to protect 

themselves against their enemies. They scratch, 

cut, sting, make bad smells, secrete the most 

dreadful poisons (which Heaven only knows how 

they contrive to make), cover their precious seeds 

with spines like those of a hedgehog, frighten 

insects with delicate nervous systems by assuming 

portentous shapes, hide themselves, grow in in- 

291 



Erewhon 



accessible places, and tell lies so plausibly as to 
deceive even their subtlest foes. 

" They lay traps smeared with bird-lime, to catch 
insects, and persuade them to drown themselves 
in pitchers which they have made of their 
leaves, and fill with water ; others make them- 
selves, as it were, into living rat-traps, which close 
with a spring on any insect that settles upon them ; 
others make their flowers into the shape of a 
certain fly that is a great pillager of honey, so 
that when the real fly comes it thinks that the 
flowers are bespoke, and goes on elsewhere. Some 
are so clever as even to overreach themselves, like 
the horse-radish, which gets pulled up and eaten 
for the sake of that pungency with which it pro- 
tects itself against underground enemies. If, on the 
other hand, they think that any insect can be of 
service to them, see how pretty they make them- 
selves. 

" What is to be intelligent if to know how to do 
what one wants to do, and to do it repeatedly, 
is not to be intelligent ? Some say that the rose- 
seed does not want to grow into a rose-bush. 
Why, then, in the name of all that is reasonable, 
does it grow ? Likely enough it is unaware of 
the want that is spurring it on to action. We have 
no reason to suppose that a human embryo knows 
that it wants to grow into a baby, or a baby into 
a man. Nothing ever shows signs of knowing 
what it is either wanting or doing, when its con- 
victions both as to what it wants, and how to 

292 



Rights of Vegetables 

get it, have been settled beyond further power of 
question. The less signs living creatures give of 
knowing what they do, provided they do it, and 
do it repeatedly and well, the greater proof they 
give that in reality they know how to do it, and 
have done it already on an infinite number of past 
occasions. 

" Some one may say," he continued, " ' What do 
you mean by talking about an infinite number of 
past occasions ? When did a rose-seed make itself 
into a rose-bush on any past occasion ? ' 

" I answer this question with another. * Did the 
rose-seed ever form part of the identity of the rose- 
bush on which it grew ? ' Who can say that it 
did not ? Again I ask : ' Was this rose-bush ever 
linked by all those links that we commonly con- 
sider as constituting personal identity, with the 
seed from which it in its turn grew ? ' Who can 
say that it was not ? 

"Then, if rose-seed number two is a continuation 
of the personality of its parent rose-bush, and if 
that rose-bush is a continuation of the personality 
of the rose-seed from which it sprang, rose-seed 
number two must also be a continuation of the 
personality of the earlier rose-seed. And this 
rose-seed must be a continuation of the personality 
of the preceding rose-seed — and so back and back 
ad infinitum. Hence it is impossible to deny 
continued personality between any existing rose- 
seed and the earliest seed that can be called a 
rose-seed at all. 

293 



Erewhon 



" The answer, then, to our objector is not far 
to seek. The rose-seed did what it now does in 
the persons of its ancestors — to whom it has been 
so linked as to be able to remember what those 
ancestors did when they were placed as the rose- 
seed now is. Each stage of development brings 
back the recollection of the course taken in the 
preceding stage, and the development has been so 
often repeated, that all doubt — and with all doubt, 
all consciousness of action — is suspended. 

" But an objector may still say, ' Granted that 
the linking between all successive generations has 
been so close and unbroken, that each one of them 
may be conceived as able to remember what it did 
in the persons of its ancestors — how do you show 
that it actually did remember ? ' 

"The answer is: 'By the action which each 
generation takes — an action which repeats all the 
phenomena that we commonly associate with 
memory — which is explicable on the supposition 
that it has been guided by memory — and which 
has neither been explained, nor seems ever likely 
to be explained on any other theory than the 
supposition that there is an abiding memory 
between successive generations.' 

" Will any one bring an example of any living 
creature whose action we can understand, per- 
forming an ineffably difficult and intricate action, 
time after time, with invariable success, and yet 
not knowing how to do it, and never having done 

it before ? Show me the example and I will spv 

294 



Rights of Vegetables 

no more, but until it is shown me, I shall credit 
action where I cannot watch it, with being con- 
trolled by the same laws as when it is within 
our ken. It will become unconscious as soon as 
the skill that directs it has become perfected. 
Neither rose-seed, therefore, nor embryo should 
be expected to show signs of knowing that they 
know what they know — if they showed such signs 
the fact of their knowing what they want, and how 
to get it, might more reasonably be doubted." 

Some of the passages already given in Chapter 
XXIII were obviously inspired by the one just 
quoted. As I read it, in a reprint shown me by 
a Professor who had edited much of the early 
literature on the subject, I could not but remember 
the one in which our Lord tells His disciples to 
consider the lilies of the field, who neither toil nor 
spin, but whose raiment surpasses even that of 
Solomon in all his glory. 

" They toil not, neither do they spin ? " Is that 
so ? " Toil not ? " Perhaps not, now that the 
method of procedure is so well known as to admit 
of no further question — but it is not likely that 
lilies came to make themselves so beautifully with- 
out having ever taken any pains about the matter. 
" Neither do they spin ? " Not with a spinning- 
wheel ; but is there no textile fabric in a leaf? 

What would the lilies of the field say if they 
heard one of us declaring that they neither toil nor 
spin ? They would say, I take it, much what we 
should if we were to hear of their preaching 

295 



Erewhon 



humility on the text of Solomons, and saying, 

" Consider the Solomons in all their glory, they 

toil not neither do they spin." We should say 

that the lilies were talking about things that they 

did not understand, and that though the Solomons 

do not toil nor spin, yet there had been no lack 

of either toiling or spinning before they came to be 

arrayed so gorgeously. 

Let me now return to the Professor. I have said 

enough to show the general drift of the arguments 

on which he relied in order to show that vegetables 

are only animals under another name, but have not 

stated his case in anything like the fullness with 

which he laid it before the public. The conclusion 

he drew, or pretended to draw, was that if it was 

sinful to kill and eat animals, it was not less sinful 

to do the like by vegetables, or their seeds. None 

such, he said, should be eaten, save what had died 

a natural death, such as fruit that was lying on the 

ground and about to rot, or cabbage-leaves that 

had turned yellow in late autumn. These and 

other like garbage he declared to be the only food 

that might be eaten with a clear conscience. Even 

so the eater must plant the pips of any apples or 

pears that he may have eaten, or any plum-stones, 

cherry-stones, and the like, or he would come near 

to incurring the guilt of infanticide. The grain of 

cereals, according to him, was out of the question, 

for every such grain had a living soul as much as 

man had, and had as good a right as man to possess 

that soul in peace. 

296 



Rights of Vegetables 

Having thus driven his fellow-countrymen into a 
corner at the point of a logical bayonet from which 
they felt that there was no escape, he proposed that 
the question what was to be done should be re- 
ferred to an oracle in which the whole country had 
the greatest confidence, and to which recourse was 
always had in times of special perplexity. It was 
whispered that a near relation of the philosopher's 
was lady's-maid to the priestess who delivered the 
oracle, and the Puritan party declared that the 
strangely unequivocal answer of the oracle was 
obtained by backstairs influence; but whether this 
was so or no, the response as nearly as I can trans- 
late it was as follows : — 

" He who sins aught 
Sins more than he ought j 
But he who sins nought 
Has much to be taught. 
Beat or be beaten, 
Eat or be eaten, 
Be killed or kill ; 
Choose which you will." 

It was clear that this response sanctioned at any 
rate the destruction of vegetable life when wanted 
as food by man ; and so forcibly had the philo- 
sopher shown that what was sauce for vegetables 
was so also for animals, that, though the Puritan 
party made a furious outcry, the acts forbidding 
the use of meat were repealed by a considerable 
majority. Thus, after several hundred years of 

wandering in the wilderness of philosophy, the 

297 



Erewhon 

country reached the conclusions that common 
sense had long since arrived at. Even the Puritans 
after a vain attempt to subsist on a kind of jam 
made of apples and yellow cabbage leaves, suc- 
cumbed to the inevitable, and resigned themselves 
to a diet of roast beef and mutton, with all the 
usual adjuncts of a modern dinner-table. 

One would have thought that the dance they had 
been led by the old prophet, and that still madder 
dance which the Professor of botany had gravely, 
but as I believe insidiously, proposed to lead them, 
would have made the Erewhonians for a long time 
suspicious of prophets whether they professed to 
have communications with an unseen power or no ; 
but so engrained in the human heart is the desire 
to believe that some people really do know what 
they say they know, and can thus save them from 
the trouble of thinking for themselves, that in a 
short time would-be philosophers and faddists be- 
came more powerful than ever, and gradually led 
their countrymen to accept all those absurd views 
of life, some account of which I have given in my 
earlier chapters. Indeed I can see no hope for the 
Erewhonians till they have got to understand that 
reason uncorrected by instinct is as bad as instinct 
uncorrected by reason. 



2<)8 



CHAPTER XXVIII 

ESCAPE 

Though busily engaged in translating the extracts 
given in the last five chapters, I was also laying 
matters in train for my escape with Arowhena. 
And indeed it was high time, for I received an 
intimation from one of the cashiers of the Musical 
Banks, that I was to be prosecuted in a criminal 
court ostensibly for measles, but really for having 
owned a watch, and attempted the reintroduction 
of machinery. 

I asked why measles ? and was told that there 
was a fear lest extenuating circumstances should 
prevent a jury from convicting me, if I were 
indicted for typhus or small-pox, but that a verdict 
would probably be obtained for measles, a disease 
which could be sufficiently punished in a person of 
my age. I was given to understand that unless 
some unexpected change should come over the 
mind of his Majesty, I might expect the blow 
to be struck within a very few days. 

My plan was this — that Arowhena and I should 

escape in a balloon together. I fear that the reader 

will disbelieve this part of my story, yet in no other 

have I endeavoured to adhere more conscientiously 

to facts, and can only throw myself upon his charity. 

299 



Erewhon 



I had already gained the ear of the Queen, and 
had so worked upon her curiosity that she promised 
to get leave for me to have a balloon made and 
inflated ; I pointed out to her that no complicated 
machinery would be wanted — nothing, in fact, but 
a large quantity of oiled silk, a car, a few ropes, &c., 
&c., and some light kind of gas, such as the anti- 
quarians who were acquainted with the means 
employed by the ancients for the production of 
the lighter gases could easily instruct her workmen 
how to provide. Her eagerness to see so strange 
a sight as the ascent of a human being into the sky 
overcame any scruples of conscience that she might 
have otherwise felt, and she set the antiquarians 
about showing her workmen how to make the gas, 
and sent her maids to buy, and oil, a very large 
quantity of silk (for I was determined that the 
balloon should be a big one) even before she began 
to try and gain the King's permission ; this, how- 
ever, she now set herself to do, for I had sent her 
word that my prosecution was imminent. 

As for myself, I need hardly say that I knew 

nothing about balloons ; nor did I see my way to 

smuggling Arowhena into the car ; nevertheless, 

knowing that we had no other chance of getting 

away from Erewhon, I drew inspiration from the 

extremity in which we were placed, and made a 

pattern from which the Queen's workmen were 

able to work successfully. Meanwhile the Queen's 

carriage-builders set about making the car, and it 

was with the attachments of this to the balloon 

300 



Escape 



that I had the greatest difficulty ; I doubt, indeed, 
whether I should have succeeded here, but for the 
great intelligence of a foreman, who threw himself 
heart and soul into the matter, and often both 
foresaw requirements, the necessity for which had 
escaped me, and suggested the means of providing 
for them. 

It happened that there had been a long drought, 
during the latter part of which prayers had been 
vainly offered up in all the temples of the air god. 
When I first told her Majesty that I wanted a 
balloon, I said my intention was to go up into the 
sky and prevail upon the air god by means of a 
personal interview. I own that this proposition 
bordered on the idolatrous, but I have long since 
repented of it, and am little likely ever to repeat the 
offence. Moreover the deceit, serious though it 
was, will probably lead to the conversion of the 
whole country. 

When the Queen told his Majesty of my pro- 
posal, he at first not only ridiculed it, but was 
inclined to veto it. Being, however, a very uxo- 
rious husband, he at length consented — as he 
eventually always did to everything on which the 
Queen had set her heart. He yielded all the more 
readily now, because he did not believe in the 
possibility of my ascent ; he was convinced that 
even though the balloon should mount a few feet 
into the air, it would collapse immediately, whereon 
I should fall and break my neck, and he should be 

rid of me. He demonstrated this to her so con- 

301 



Erewhon 



vincingly, that she was alarmed, and tried to talk 
me into giving up the idea, but on finding that 
I persisted in my wish to have the balloon made, 
she produced an order from the King to the 
effect that all facilities I might require should be 
afforded me. 

At the same time her Majesty told me that my 
attempted ascent would be made an article of 
impeachment against me in case I did not succeed 
in prevailing on the air god to stop the drought. 
Neither King nor Queen had any idea that I meant 
going right away if I could get the wind to take me, 
nor had he any conception of the existence of a 
certain steady upper current of air which was 
always setting in one direction, as could be seen by 
the shape of the higher clouds, which pointed 
invariably from south-east to north-west. I had 
myself long noticed this peculiarity in the climate, 
and attributed it, I believe justly, to a trade-wind 
which was constant at a few thousand feet above 
the earth, but was disturbed by local influences at 
lower elevations. 

My next business was to break the plan to Aro- 

Bvhena, and to devise the means for getting her into 

the car. I felt sure that she would come with me, 

but had made up my mind that if her courage failed 

her, the whole thing should come to nothing. Aro- 

whena and I had been in constant communication 

through her maid, but I had thought it best not to 

tell her the details of my scheme till everything was 

settled. The time had now arrived, and I arranged 

302 



Escape 



with the maid that I should be admitted by a 
private door into Mr. Nosnibor's garden at about 
dusk on the following evening. 

I came at the appointed time ; the girl let me 
into the garden and bade me wait in a secluded 
alley until Arowhena should come. It was now 
early summer, and the leaves were so thick upon 
the trees that even though some one else had 
entered the garden I could have easily hidden 
myself. The night was one of extreme beauty ; the 
sun had long set, but there was still a rosy gleam in 
the sky over the ruins of the railway station ; below 
me was the city already twinkling with lights, while 
beyond it stretched the plains for many a league 
until they blended with the sky. I just noted these 
things, but I could not heed them. I could heed 
nothing, till, as I peered into the darkness of the 
alley, I perceived a white -figure gliding swiftly 
towards me. I bounded towards it, and ere thought 
could either prompt or check, I had caught Aro- 
whena to my heart and covered her unresisting 
cheek with kisses. 

So overjoyed were we that we knew not how to 
speak ; indeed I do not know when we should have 
found words and come to our senses, if the maid 
had not gone off into a fit of hysterics, and 
awakened us to the necessity of self-control ; then, 
briefly and plainly, I unfolded what I proposed ; I 
showed her the darkest side, for I felt sure that the 
darker the prospect the more likely she was to 
come. I told her that my plan would probably end 

303 



Erewhon 

in death for both of us, and that I dared not press 
it — that at a word from her it should be abandoned; 
still that there was just a possibility of our escaping 
together to some part of the world where there 
would be no bar to our getting married, and that I 
could see no other hope. 

She made no resistance, not a sign or hint of 
doubt or hesitation. She would do all I told her, 
and come whenever I was ready ; so I bade her 
send her maid to meet me nightly — told her that 
she must put a good face on, look as bright and 
happy as she could, so as to make her father and 
mother and Zulora think that she was forgetting 
me — and be ready at a moment's notice to come to 
the Queen's workshops, and be concealed among 
the ballast and under rugs in the car of the 
balloon ; and so we parted. 

I hurried my preparations forward, for I feared 
rain, and also that the King might change his mind; 
but the weather continued dry, and in another week 
the Queen's workmen had finished the balloon and 
car, while the gas was ready to be turned on into 
the balloon at any moment. All being now pre- 
pared I was to ascend on the following morning. 
I had stipulated for being allowed to take abundance 
of rugs and wrappings as protection from the cold 
of the upper atmosphere, and also ten or a dozen 
good-sized bags of ballast. 

I had nearly a quarter's pension in hand, and 
with this I fee'd Arowhena's maid, and bribed the 
Queen's foreman — who would, I believe, have 

304 



Escape 



given mc assistance even without a bribe. He 
helped me to secrete food and wine in the bags of 
ballast, and on the morning of my ascent he kept 
the otK^r workmen out of the way while I got 
Arowhena into the car. She came with early 
dawn, muffled up, and in her maid's dress. She 
was supposed to be gone to an early performance 
at one of the Musical Banks, and told me that she 
should not be missed till breakfast, but that her 
absence must then be discovered. I arranged the 
ballast about her so that it should conceal her as 
she lay at the bottom of the car, and covered her 
with wrappings. Although it still wanted some 
hours of the time fixed for my ascent, I could not 
trust myself one moment from the car, so I got 
into it at once, and watched the gradual inflation of 
the balloon. Luggage I had none, save the pro- 
visions hidden in the ballast bags, the books of 
mythology, and the treatises on the machines, with 
my own manuscript diaries and translations. 

I sat quietly, and awaited the hour fixed for my 
departure — quiet outwardly, but inwardly I was in 
an agony of suspense lest Arowhena's absence 
should be discovered before the arrival of the King 
and Queen, who were to witness my ascent. They 
were not due yet for another two hours, and during 
this time a hundred things might happen, any one 
of which would undo me. 

At last the balloon was full ; the pipe which had 

filled it was removed, the escape of the gas having 

been first carefully precluded. Nothing remained 

30s D 



Erewhon 



ti 



to hinder the balloon from ascending but the hands 
and weight of those who were holding on to it with 
ropes. I strained by, eyes for the coming of the 
King and Queen, but could see no sign of their 
approach. I looked in the direction of Mr. Nos- 
nibor's house — there was nothing to indicate dis- 
turbance, but it was not yet breakfast time. The 
crowd began to gather ; they were aware that I 
was under the displeasure of the court, but I could 
detect no signs of my being unpopular. On the 
contrary, I received many kindly expressions of 
regard and encouragement, with good wishes as to 
the result of my journey. 

I was speaking to one gentleman of my acquaint- 
ance, and telling him the substance of what I 
intended to do when I had got into the presence of 
the air god (what he thought of me I cannot guess, 
for I am sure that he did not believe in the objective 
existence of the air god, nor that I myself believed 
in it), when I became aware of a small crowd of 
people running as fast as they could from Mr. 
Nosnibor's house towards the Queen's workshops. 
For the moment my pulse ceased beating, and then, 
knowing that the time had come when I must 
either do or die, I called vehemently to those who 
were holding the ropes (some thirty men) to let go 
at once, and made gestures signifying danger, and 
that there would be mischief if they held on longer. 
Many obeyed ; the rest were too weak to hold on 
to the ropes, and were forced to let them go. On 
this the balloon bounded suddenly upwards, but 

306 



Escape 



my own feeling was that the earth had dropped off 
from me, and was sinking fast into the open space 
beneath. 

This happened at the very moment that the 
attention of the crowd was divided, the one half 
paying heed to the eager gestures of those coming 
from Mr. Nosnibor's house, and the other to the 
exclamations from myself. A minute more and 
Arowhena would doubtless have been discovered, 
but before that minute was over, I was at such a 
height above the city that nothing could harm me, 
and every second both the town and the crowd 
became smaller and more confused. In an in- 
credibly short time, I could see little but a vast wall 
of blue plains rising up against me, towards which- 
ever side I looked. 

At first, the balloon mounted vertically upwards, 
but after about five minutes, when we had already 
attained a very great elevation, I fancied that the 
objects on the plain beneath began to move from 
under me. I did not feel so much as a breath of 
wind, and could not suppose that the balloon itself 
was travelling. I was, therefore, wondering what 
this strange movement of fixed objects could mean, 
when it struck me that people in a balloon do not 
feel the wind inasmuch as they travel with it and 
offer it no resistance. Then I was happy in think- 
ing that I must now have reached the invariable 
trade wind of the upper air, and that I should be 
very possibly wafted for hundreds or even thousands 

of miles, far from Erewhon and the Erewhonians. 

307 



Erewhon 



Already I had removed the wrappings and freed 
Arowhena ; but I soon covered her up with them 
again, for it was already very cold, and she was 
half stupefied with the strangeness of her position. 

And now began a time, dream-like and delirious, 
of which I do not suppose that I shall ever recover 
a distinct recollection. Some things I can recall — 
as that we were ere long enveloped in vapour 
which froze upon my moustache and whiskers ; 
then comes a memory of sitting for hours and 
hours in a thick fog, hearing no sound but my own 
breathing and Arowhena's (for we hardly spoke) 
and seeing no sight but the car beneath us and 
beside us, and the dark balloon above. 

Perhaps the most painful feeling when the earth 
was hidden was that the balloon was motionless, 
though our only hope lay in our going forward 
with an extreme of speed. From time to time 
through a rift in the clouds I caught a glimpse of 
earth, and was thankful to perceive that we must 
be flying forward faster than in an express train ; 
but no sooner was the rift closed than the old con- 
viction of our being stationary returned in full 
force, and was not to be reasoned with : there was 
another feeling also which was nearly as bad ; 
for as a child that fears it has gone blind in a 
long tunnel if there is no light, so ere the earth 
had been many minutes hidden, I became half 
frightened lest we might not have broken away from 
it clean and for ever. Now and again, I ate and 

gave food to Arowhena, but by guess-work as 

308 



Escape 



regards time. Then came darkness, a dreadful 
dreary time, without even the moon to cheer us. 

With dawn the scene was changed : the clouds 
were gone and morning stars were shining; the 
rising of the splendid sun remains still impressed 
upon me as the most glorious that I have ever 
seen ; beneath us there was an embossed chain of 
mountains with snow fresh fallen upon them ; but 
we were far above them ; we both of us felt our 
breathing seriously affected, but I would not allow 
the balloon to descend a single inch, not knowing 
for how long we might not need all the buoyancy 
which we could command ; indeed I was thankful 
to find that, after nearly four-and-twenty hours, we 
were still at so great a height above the earth. 

In a couple of hours we had passed the ranges, 
which must have been some hundred and fifty miles 
across, and again I saw a tract of level plain ex- 
tending far away to the horizon. I knew not where 
we were, and dared not descend, lest I should waste 
the power of the balloon, but I was half hopeful 
that we might be above the country from which I 
had originally started. I looked anxiously for any 
sign by which I could recognise it, but could see 
nothing, and feared that we might be above some 
distant part of Erewhon, or a country inhabited 
by savages. While I was still in doubt, the balloon 
was again wrapped in clouds, and we were left to 
blank space and to conjectures. 

The weary time dragged on. How I longed for 

my unhappy watch ! I felt as though not even 

309 



Erewhon 

time was moving, so dumb and spell-bound were 
our surroundings. Sometimes I would feel my 
pulse, and count its beats for half-an-hour to- 
gether ; anything to mark the time — to prove that 
it was there, and to assure myself that we were 
within the blessed range of its influence, and not 
gone adrift into the timelessness of eternity. 

I had been doing this for the twentieth or thirtieth 
time, and had fallen into a light sleep : I dreamed 
wildly of a journey in an express train, and of 
arriving at a railway station where the air was full 
of the sound of locomotive engines blowing off 
steam with a horrible and tremendous hissing ; I 
woke frightened and uneasy, but the hissing and 
crashing noises pursued me now that I was awake, 
and forced me to own that they were real. What 
they were I knew not, but thv,y grew gradually 
fainter and fainter, and after a time were lost. In 
a few hours the clouds broke, and I saw beneath 
me that which made the chilled blood run colder 
in my veins. I saw the sea, and "nothing but the 
sea ; in the main black, but flecked with white 
heads of storm-tossed, angry waves. 

Arowhena was sleeping quietly at the bottom of 
the car, and as I looked at her sweet and saintly 
beauty, I groaned, and cursed myself for the misery 
into which I had brought her ; but there was no- 
thing for it now. 

I sat and waited for the worst, and presently I 

saw signs as though that worst were soon to be 

at hand, for the balloon had begun to sink. On 

310 



Escape 



first seeing the sea I had been impressed with the 
idea that we must have been falling, but now there 
could be no mistake, we were sinking, and that 
fast. I threw out a bag of ballast, and for a 
time we rose again, but in the course of a few 
hours the sinking recommenced, and I threw out 
another bag. 

Then the battle commenced in earnest. It lasted 
all that afternoon and through the night until the 
following evening. I had seen never a sail nor a 
sign of a sail, though I had half blinded myself 
with straining my eyes incessantly in every direc- 
tion ; we had parted with everything but the clothes 
which we had upon our backs ; food and water 
were gone, all thrown out to the wheeling alba- 
trosses, in order to save us a few hours or even 
minutes from the sea. I did not throw away the 
books till we were within a few feet of the water, 
and clung to my manuscripts to the very last. 
Hope there seemed none whatever — yet, strangely 
enough we were neither of us utterly hopeless, and 
even when the evil that we dreaded was upon us, 
and that which we greatly feared had come, we sat 
in the car of the balloon with the waters up to our 
middle, and still smiled with a ghastly hopefulness 
to one another. 



3«i 



Erewhon 



He who has crossed the St. Gothard will re- 
member that below Andermatt there is one of those 
Alpine gorges which reach the very utmost limits 
of the sublime and terrible. The feelings of the 
traveller have become more and more highly 
wrought at every step, until at last the naked and 
overhanging precipices seem to close above his 
head, as he crosses a bridge hung in mid-air over 
a roaring waterfall, and enters on the darkness of 
a tunnel, hewn out of the rock. 

What can be in store for him on emerging? 
Surely something even wilder and more desolate 
than that which he has seen already ; yet his 
imagination is paralysed, and can suggest no fancy 
or vision of anything to surpass the reality which he 
had just witnessed. Awed and breathless he ad- 
vances ; when lo ! the light of the afternoon sun 
welcomes him as he leaves the tunnel, and behold 
a smiling valley — a babbling brook, a village with 
tall belfries, and meadows of brilliant green — these 
are the things which greet him, and he smiles to 
himself as the terror passes away and in another 
moment is forgotten. 

So fared it now with ourselves. We had been in 
the water some two or three hours, and the night 
had come upon us. We had said farewell for the 
hundredth time, and had resigned ourselves to 
meet the end ; indeed I was myself battling with 
a drowsiness from which it was only too probable 
that I should never wake ; when suddenly, Aro- 
whena touched me on the shoulder, and pointed to 

312 



Escape 



a light and to a dark mass which was bearing right 
upon us. A cry for help — loud and clear and 
shrill — broke forth from both of us at once ; and 
in another five minutes we were carried by kind 
and tender hands on to the deck of an Italian 
vessel. 



313 



CHAPTER XXIX 

CONCLUSION 

The ship was the Principe Umberto, bound from 
Callao to Genoa ; she had carried a number of 
emigrants to Rio, had gone thence to Callao, where 
she had taken in a cargo of guano, and was now on 
her way home. The captain was a certain Giovanni 
Gianni, a native of Sestri ; he has kindly allowed 
me to refer to him in case the truth of my story 
should be disputed ; but I grieve to say that I 
suffered him to mislead himself in some import- 
ant particulars. I should add that when we were 
picked up we were a thousand miles from land. 

As soon as we were on board, the captain began 
questioning us about the siege of Paris, from which 
city he had assumed that we must have come, not- 
withstanding our immense distance from Europe. 
As may be supposed, I had not heard a syllable 
about the war between France and Germany, and 
was too ill to do more than assent to all that he 
chose to put into my mouth. My knowledge of 
Italian is very imperfect, and I gathered little from 
anything that he said ; but I was glad to conceal 
the true point of our departure, and resolved to 
take any cue that he chose to give me. 

The line that thus suggested itself was that there 

314 



Conclusion 



had been ten or twelve others in the balloon, that 
I was an English Milord, and Arowhena a Russian 
Countess ; that all the others had been drowned, 
and that the despatches which we had carried were 
lost. I came afterwards to learn that this story 
would not have been credible, had not the captain 
been for some weeks at sea, for I found that when 
we were picked up, the Germans had already long 
been masters of Paris. As it was, the captain settled 
the whole story for me, and I was well content. 

In a few days we sighted an English vessel 
bound from Melbourne to London with wool. 
At my earnest request, in spite of stormy weather 
which rendered it dangerous for a boat to take us 
from one ship to the other, the captain consented 
to signal the English vessel, and we were received 
on board, but we were transferred with such diffi- 
culty that no communication took place as to the 
manner of our being found. I did indeed hear the 
Italian mate who was in charge of the boat shout 
out something in French to the effect that we had 
been picked up from a balloon, but the noise of 
the wind was so great, and the captain understood 
so little French that he caught nothing of the 
truth, and it was assumed that we were two per- 
sons who had been saved from shipwreck. When 
the captain asked me in what ship I had been 
wrecked, I said that a party of us had been carried 
out to sea in a pleasure-boat by a strong current, 
and that Arowhena (whom I described as a Peruvian 
lady) and I were alone saved. 

31S 



Erewhon 



There were several passengers, whose goodness 
towards us we can never repay. I grieve to think 
that they cannot fail to discover that we did not take 
them fully into our confidence ; but had we told 
them all, they would not have believed us, and I 
was determined that no one should hear of Ere- 
whon, or have the chance of getting there before 
me, as long as I could prevent it. Indeed, the 
recollection of the many falsehoods which I was 
then obliged to tell, would render my life miserable 
were I not sustained by the consolations of my 
religion. Among the passengers there was a most 
estimable clergyman, by whom Arowhena and I 
were married within a very few days of our 
coming on board. 

After a prosperous voyage of about two months, 
we sighted the Land's End, and in another week 
we were landed at London. A liberal subscription 
was made for us on board the ship, so that we 
found ourselves in no immediate difficulty about 
money. I accordingly took Arowhena down into 
Somersetshire, where my mother and sisters had 
resided when I last heard of them. To my great 
sorrow I found that my mother was dead, and 
that her death had been accelerated by the report 
of my having been killed, which had been brought 
to my employer's station by Chowbok. It ap- 
peared that he must have waited for a few days 
to see whether I returned, that he then considered 
it safe to assume that I should never do so, and 
had accordingly made up a story about my having 

316 



Conclusion 



fallen into a whirlpool of seething waters while 
coming down the gorge homeward. Search was 
made for my body, but the rascal had chosen to 
drown me in a place where there would be no 
chance of its ever being recovered. 

My sisters were both married, but neither of 
their husbands was rich. No one seemed over- 
joyed on my return ; and I soon discovered that 
when a man's relations have once mourned for 
him as dead, they seldom like the prospect of 
having to mourn for him a second time. 

Accordingly I returned to London with my wife, 
and through the assistance of an old friend sup- 
ported myself by writing good little stories for the 
magazines, and for a tract society. I was well 
paid ; and I trust that I may not be considered 
presumptuous in saying that some of the most 
popular of the brochures which are distributed in 
the streets, and which are to be found in the 
waiting-rooms of the railway stations, have pro- 
ceeded from my pen. During the time that I 
could spare, I arranged my notes and diary till 
they assumed their present shape. There remains 
nothing for me to add, save to unfold the scheme 
which I propose for the conversion of Erewhon. 

That scheme has only been quite recently decided 
upon as the one which seems most likely to be 
successful. 

It will be seen at once that it would be madness 
for me to go with ten or a dozen subordinate 
missionaries by the same way as that which led 

317 



Erewhon 



me to discover Erewhon. I should be imprisoned 
for typhus, besides being handed over to the 
straighteners for having run away with Arowhena : 
an even darker fate, to which I dare hardly again 
allude, would be reserved for my devoted fellow- 
labourers. It is plain, therefore, that some other 
way must be found for getting at the Erewhonians, 
and I am thankful to say that such another way is 
not wanting. One of the rivers which descends 
from the Snowy Mountains, and passes through 
Erewhon, is known to be navigable for several 
hundred miles from its mouth. Its upper waters 
have never yet been explored, but I feel little 
doubt that it will be found possible to take a light 
gunboat (for we must protect ourselves) to the 
outskirts of the Erewhonian country. 

I propose, therefore, that one of those associa- 
tions should be formed in which the risk of each 
of the members is conf \ied to the amount of his 
stake in the concern. The first step would be to 
draw up a prospectus. In this I would advise that 
no mention should be made of the fact that the 
Erewhonians are the lost tribes. The discovery is 
one of absorbing interest to myself, but it is of a 
sentimental rather than commercial value, and busi- 
ness is business. The capital to be raised should 
not be less than fifty thousand pounds, and might 
be either in five or ten pound shares as hereafter 
determined. This should be amply sufficient for 
the expenses of an experimental voyage. 

When the money had been subscribed, it would 
318 



Conclusion 



be our duty to charter a steamer of some twelve 
or fourteen hundred tons burden, and with accom- 
modation for a cargo of steerage passengers. She 
should carry two or three guns in case of her being 
attacked by savages at the mouth of the river. Boats 
of considerable size should be also provided, and I 
think it would be desirable that these also should 
carry two or three six-pounders. The ship should 
be taken up the river as far as was considered safe, 
and a picked party should then ascend in the boats. 
The presence both of Arowhena and myself would 
be necessary at this stage, inasmuch as our know- 
ledge of the language would disarm suspicion, and 
facilitate negotiations. 

We should begin by representing the advantages 
afforded to labour in the colony of Queensland, and 
point out to the Erewhonians that by emigrating 
thither, they would be able to amass, each and all 
of them, enormous fortunes — a fact which would 
be easily provable by a reference to statistics. I 
have no doubt that a very great number might be 
thus induced to come back with us in the larger 
boats, and that we could fill our vessel with emi- 
grants in three or four journeys. 

Should we be attacked, our course would be even 
simpler, for the Erewhonians have no gunpowder, 
and would be so surprised with its effects that we 
should be able to capture as many as we chose ; 
in this case we should feel able to engage them on 
more advantageous terms, for they would be pri- 
soners of war. But even though we were to meet 

319 



Erewhon 



with no violence, I doubt not that a cargo of seven 
or eight hundred Erewhonians could be induced, 
when they were once on board the vessel, to sign 
an agreement which should be mutually advan- 
tageous both to us and them. 

We should then proceed to Queensland, and 
dispose of our engagement with the Erewhonians 
to the sugar-growers of that settlement, who are 
in great want of labour ; it is believed that the 
money thus realised would enable us to declare 
a handsome dividend, and leave a considerable 
balance, which might be spent in repeating our 
operations and bringing over other cargoes of 
Erewhonians, with fresh consequent profits. In 
fact we could go backwards and forwards as long 
as there was a demand for labour in Queensland, 
or indeed in any other Christian colony, for the 
supply of Erewhonians would be unlimited, and 
they could be packed closely and fed at a very 
reasonable cost. 

It would be my duty and Arowhena's to see that 
our emigrants should be boarded and lodged in the 
households of religious sugar-growers; these per- 
sons would give them the benefit of that instruction 
whereof they stand so greatly in need. Each day, 
as soon as they could be spared from their work in 
the plantations, they would be assembled for praise, 
and be thoroughly grounded in the Church Cate- 
chism, while the whole of every Sabbath should 
be devoted to singing psalms and church-going. 

This must be insisted upon, both in order to put 
320 



Conclusion 



a stop to any uneasy feeling which might show 
itself either in Queensland or in the mother country 
as to the means whereby the Erewhonians had 
been obtained, and also because it would give our 
own shareholders the comfort of reflecting that 
they were saving souls and filling their own 
pockets at one and the same moment. By the 
time the emigrants had got too old for work they 
would have become thoroughly instructed in re- 
ligion ; they could then be shipped back to Ere- 
whon and carry the good seed with them. 

I can see no hitch nor difficulty about the matter, 
and trust that this book will sufficiently advertise 
the scheme to insure the subscription of the neces- 
sary capital ; as soon as this is forthcoming I will 
guarantee that I convert the Erewhonians not only 
into good Christians but into a source of consider- 
able profit to the shareholders. 

I should add that I cannot claim the credit for 
having originated the above scheme. I had been 
for months at my wit's end, forming plan after plan 
for the evangelisation of Erewhon, when by one of 
those special interpositions which should be a suffi- 
cient answer to the sceptic, and make even the most 
confirmed rationalist irrational, my eye was directed 
to the following paragraph in the Times newspaper, 
of one of the first days in January 1872 : — 

"Polynesians in Queensland. — The Marquis of Nor- 
manby, the new Governor of Queensland, has completed his 
inspection of the northern districts of the colony. It is stated 
that at Mackay, one of the best sugar-growing districts, his 

321 ▼- 



Erewhon 

Excellency saw a good deal of the Polynesians. In the course 
of a speech to those who entertained him there, the Marquis 
said : — * I have been told that the means by which Polynesians 
were obtained were not legitimate, but I have failed to perceive 
this, in so far at least as Queensland is concerned ; and, if one 
can judge by the countenances and manners of the Polynesians, 
they experience no regret at their position.' But his Excellency 
pointed out the advantage of giving them religious instruction. 
It would tend to set at rest an uneasy feeling which at present 
existed in the country to know that they were inclined to retain 
the Polynesians, and teach them religion." 

I feel that comment is unnecessary, and will 
therefore conclude with one word of thanks to the 
reader who may have had the patience to follow 
me through my adventures without losing his 
temper ; but with two, for any who may write at 
once to the Secretary of the Erewhon Evangelisa- 
tion Company, limited (at the address which shall 
hereafter be advertised), and request to have his 
name put down as a shareholder. 

P.S. — I had just received and corrected the last 
proof of the foregoing volume, and was walking 
down the Strand from Temple Bar to Charing 
Cross, when on passing Exeter Hall I saw a num- 
ber of devout-looking people crowding into the 
building with faces full of interested and com- 
placent anticipation. I stopped, and saw an an- 
nouncement that a missionary meeting was to be 
held forthwith, and that the native missionary, the 

Rev. William Habakkuk, from (the colony 

from which I had started on my adventures), 

would be introduced, and make a short address. 

322 



Conclusion 



After some little difficulty I obtained admission, 
and heard two or three speeches, which were pre- 
fatory to the introduction of Mr. Habakkuk. One 
of these struck me as perhaps the most presump- 
tuous that I had ever heard. The speaker said that 
the races of whom Mr. Habakkuk was a specimen, 
were in all probability the lost ten tribes of Israel. 
I dared not contradict him then, but I felt angry 
and injured at hearing the speaker jump to so 
preposterous a conclusion upon such insufficient 
grounds. The discovery of the ten tribes was mine, 
and mine only. I was still in the very height of 
indignation, when there was a murmur of expecta- 
tion in the hall, and Mr. Habakkuk was brought 
forward. The reader may judge of my surprise at 
finding that he was none other than my old friend 
Chowbok ! 

My jaw dropped, and my eyes almost started out 
of my head with astonishment. The poor fellow 
was dreadfully frightened, and the storm of ap- 
plause which greeted his introduction seemed only 
to add to his confusion. I dare not trust myself to 
report his speech — indeed I could hardly listen to 
it, for I was nearly choked with trying to suppress 
my feelings. I am sure that I caught the words 
" Adelaide, the Queen Dowager," and I thought that 
I heard " Mary Magdalene " shortly afterwards, but 
I had then to leave the hall for fear of being turned 
out. While on the staircase, I heard another burst 
of prolonged and rapturous applause, so I suppose 

the audience were satisfied. 

323 



^.^"y 



Erewhon 



- The feelings that came uppermost in my mind 
C. ^, , ^ ,.were hardly of a very solemn character, but I 
thought of my first acquaintance with Chowbok, 
of the scene in the woodshed, of the innumerable 
lies he had told me, of his repeated attempts upon 
the brandy, and of many an incident which I have 
not thought it worth while to dwell upon ; and I 
could not but derive some satisfaction from the 
hope that my own efforts might have contributed 
to the change which had been doubtless wrought 
upon him, and that the rite which I had performed, 
however unprofessionally, on that wild upland 
river-bed, had not been wholly without effect. I 
trust that what I have written about him in the 
earlier part of my book may not be libellous, and 
that it may do him no harm with his employers. 
He was then unregenerate. I must certainly find 
him out and have a talk with him ; but before I 
shall have time to do so these pages will be in the 
hands of the public. 

At the last moment I see a probability of a com- 
plication which causes me much uneasiness. Please 
subscribe quickly. Address to the Mansion-House, 
care of the Lord Mayor, whom I will instruct to 
receive names and subscriptions for me until I can 
organise a committee. 



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